A smile,
a wide grin,
reaching all but the eyes,
important glassy eyes,
that shatter before becoming waterfalls.
Never seen so serious,
it seemed a mistake,
to all but the person with the mask on their face.
The mysteries yet veiled,
with no trace of sadness in their glimpse or glare,
no twitch in the curtains as they steadily stare.
None understood, or knew what it meant,
except the one with the bleary, teary gaze.
Misunderstood, always it seemed,
they cried and fled into the land of dreams.
YOU ARE READING
Mirrors
PoetryShort poems I've made. They were made at different points in time. They are a bit of a reflection. I hope you like them.
