Translate to your language

Sunday, April 11, 2010

To the Looking Glass

Stillness through morning light
tickled your soft lips
radiated off of
your porcelain

like a Cheshire Cat
would love
to paint your looking glass
a nice matte black

And you could see
with out worry

Days and Lives
stuck between that glass
we see alternate histories
and infinite futures

but so rarely
do we see ourselves