Sunday, August 9, 2009



The mirrors turn in,
reflecting past sins, grievances,
showing hallow ghosts of shining hopes and dreams,
with no way to keep at bay the dark and sorted nightmares.
Does the Bogey man exist
like beings of daytime hours;
or is he like the man in the moon,
only showing when a cycle is full?
Creeping darkness under the bed,
or a slightly cracked closet door
scaring even dust bunnies away
like particles dancing in a sun beam.
The stars may sparkle to mimick a diamond
with all its Teflon facets,
and waves may ripple the water surface
like warbles upon the glass.
Hopes and dreams are shared
with those closest to our heart
wishing for a brighter way
to end this foolish slump.

1 comment:

Jeanie said...

This is a beautiful poem, as is the inspirational photograph.