Mirrored Dreams

They were picturesque
perfectly painted dreams
clouds of happiness
hung afar and near
that reflection she saw
in the world
of her closed eyes
everything was just

Her eyelids opened
every ounce of the frame
every shimmer of brightness
that she’d seen
they shattered
and the pain
stemmed from
the impossibility
of collecting the shards
as the mirror of her dreams
never to be seen

© The Londoner, March 2010

An old piece I managed to excavate, which speaks volumes for me now. ~ T.L.


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