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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