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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
