Pieces Poem by soren Barrett

If turtles use their shells for shelter.
Do fish get wet when it rains?
What is never learned is easily forgotten.
On a journey from here, I am so far away

It's noon with a broken compass
Holding a journal that fades
My tap root snapped in wrinkling hands
Through broken clouds shadows decay

I clutch a fractured crystal prize
No glue will hold it or its flaw disguise
In your chrome and white ceramic tile love
I'm next in line to see the marble judge