The Mirror

Mirror mirror made of glass, Reflex the details of the past. Shatter not, less shards be lost, And with them every single thought. Blame not yourself, sweet little bird. The accusations are absurd. Fire and ice this day will rain, And cleanse away the weak and sane. Left are the strong, left is the pain, Seal it away, forgotten again. And so over and over the story plays, Lost and found in so many ways. Once upon a time, a mere flesh wound, Was only the crack in the mirror’s swoon? Attracted to the light that reflected there, Caused the rift of time to tear. This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves