The Mirror Sighs
Squinting into time
I grasp a distant folly
Slow dancing alone
It stares back at me
Shimmering in icy lust
This trembling pencil
It sidles closer
A touch of maple abides
Pancakes come to mind
The gauntlet is thrown
A motionless hawk falters
Its feathers ruffled
Adrift in the trees
The echo of lost moments
A dove high cooing
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2023
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