The Puzzle Giuliana Panzini
A picture– Torn apart. Thousands of pieces Scatter across the ground.
A picture– Unique and clear;
Whether immediately seen, occasionally admired, Or disdainfully observed– . These features can stand out.
It takes hours, Sometimes days,
To rectify this mess, One piece at a time.
Unless you take the days, months, or years, You will never see every feature— So many are hidden deep within.
It’s slow, It’s difficult, But nothing that matters Can ever be easy.
But, with one part lost, Somewhere out there, The feature that stands out most: The visible mass of the floor.
Finally, you place your last piece In its home, Only to discover The gap.
By first glance, You’ll never recognise Its vibrant colors Or its thorough, Almost realistic details.
One singular piece Near the top right corner– Gone.
Despite it being one Out of a thousand qualities, The only part the eye will fall onto Is the one flaw.
Although missing, It isn’t alone.
Days of determination, Struggle, And strive– Deceased in the same second The piece left sight.
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