Kaleidoscope

Across the sideways, bronze framed hall mirror, A ribbon of infrared light imprinted itself, Like a streak of alien sky; Hours later, it dimmed and blew out, like an ill-furnished house. Other reflections crawled across like tarantulas... Somebody's corduroy acorn brown trouser legs and spotless tapshoes; Somebody's long-lashed, hazel-ringletted doll; it was wearing a lacy, tulip-embroidered smock with frilled edges, and it was napping in a nook. One day, somebody slipped-up; their teacup, which had a watercolour lily design, ended-up on the mirror: The owner of reflections fragmented, Until it was nothing but a set of chess pieces, cluttering a dustpan. A crescent of sun splintered the window, targeting the shards in the can like yellow rose hued rainbows.