Lookingglass

Plain bronze frame, warped oval glass, a flea market find, a lead-laced history of light. Gazing into it, he sees a mind picturing - a boy and girl on a park bench, the boy is looking at his boots his legs swing back and forth. He is falling in love. The glass bubbles, diffuse facets blur their far-away faces. Two souls, both sealed in a lost reflection of time, yet even now reaching through an old man’s looking glass to glisten upon a teardrop.