Micropoetry 5-18-2020

in the middle years
when days turn into nights
and the rivers fill with tears

the river path
has brought her here
beneath the sky
reflecting of the light
that fills her soul

halfway through
the window to the worlds
between the dark and light

beneath the moon
where angels sleep
as the world slips
beyond the sky

in the medium
where motion ceases
and I am neither
here nor there

strings of light
connected among
the strands of life

mirror by mirror
she enters the doors
through former lives

each path
a mirror to the depths
she has yet to explore

reflect in a looking glass
to the life she never had


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