@mirakee, @writersnetwork thank you for your kind reposts. I really haven't been writing for months and I don't know if this is really a dream. Thank you everyone for your very generous comments and reposts. This means a lot. ❤️
I see mirrors, A lot of them. In the dead, the old, the decayed and the ones about to be deceased. I see mirrors in poems I read about the little girl in the meadows in her little white frock, with golden locks hanging down her shoulders The faint brown freckles on her face Dancing with the wind on her toes Like ballerinas she went to see last spring.
I see mirrors In the old women I hear about, Sleeping in her coffin, with her tranquility. I walk past her huge door everyday With the faded bijou letter plate, all brozed up with dust of mystery and the gold of love. The wooden door to her tiny abode of remenisce, where she fondly slept on the couch in her last days. For the king size bed her husband brought home Has been lonely for 22 years of him bygone. She swaps in the drapes and the sheets everyday, for him to sleep comfortably in her memories.
I see mirrors In the old library where pretty faces Take a bit of it with them in the photographs, The old shelves with books of those whose bones might have been loamed soil by now, Covered with webs of miniscule creatures and the shores they sank their feet in. It's been just years they've espied sunlight and held hands For those who come to read stand by the newspapers, too old to remember and too weak to bend down for them.
I see mirrors, In the houses near the shores For it's walls have glimmered with french Margherita splashes on the fond nights And have been scraped at times when the kids mastered to draw. The gardens remember the young father teaching his baby boy how to peddle, And now the birds pay their visit to the undomesticated feral grass. The radio on the china table now, never announces victory For the unrepaired gobs Haven't touched a human since the boy wedded maturity.