Something borrowed, something blue

This is a very very beautiful and really really short poem from a dear friend of mine. The poem is as beautiful and as short as she is, dear Nicola.

Something

A lonely corner, an empty box,
A broken window, a pair of odd socks,
Where there’s some thing missing, there’s always something left,
Whether its been worn out, taken for granted or vigorously cleft.

A crack in a wall, a page that’s been torn,
A deserted town, a cob without corn,
Where there is darkness a ray of light will soon show,
Where memories have faded, hope will still glow.