Looking into the mirror,
I see color, popping bright hues
Of them, my eyes growing wider
By the second in awe, of the
Vibrance they hold.
I look deeper, I see grass,
Luscious, green and freshly cut.
A river by the side, crystals
Flowing with the tranquil sound
I associate with so often.
I look up, I see flocks,
Collectively taking flight
In perfect patterns
Scattering across the infinite blue,
Freedom lying safely tucked
In the tip of their wings.
I wish, once more
Of feeling this and more, of seeing.
I wonder, I fantasise
Do they convey these in brail too?
I look into the mirror of Erised
And you know what I see?
Just that.
I just,
See
YOU ARE READING
Echo of Thoughts
PoetryPoetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that hurt. It is a matter of life not just a matter of language... Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry....
