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The Glass
This one’s for you,
You’ll know who you are
When you look in the mirror,
You’ll see, you’ll see,
You’ll see pictures playing
From somewhere to somewhere
Touching the sky and the green blue sea
The Forest playing acoustically,
Perhaps even glimpses, glimpses of me
Held tightly trapped
By the image you’ll see,
Should you be naked
In front of the glass
There may be fogging, a shaking
That won’t quickly pass,
It’s the magic you’ll see
Gripped by the glass.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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