Shards of Glass

A somewhat melancholy poem. These dark and cold nights don't help moods!
 
Shards of Glass
 
The window broken, smashed beyond repair,
Once told a fine tale, in brightly coloured glass;
But now all that remains are fragments of despair,
And shattered edges gleaming on the grass.
 
Cold winds blowing though empty void arising;
Where is feeling? To care too little or too much?
And the mind that comes to bitterness, despising,
Where once was joy, softest caress and touch.
 
Now whitewashed walls hide the images behind,
Bury deep the memories, for here is reformation;
And the cutting off the past is really being kind,
For all that it seems like destruction and negation
 
The heart of glass is no more, however unintended,
But the pain of loss remains, and is not transcended.