Just a mirror?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another poem about sleep, but this one's about waking up and it supports quite an odd simile...

Submitted: August 29, 2012

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Submitted: August 29, 2012




Just a mirror?

I sit before the mirror,

But don’t see myself for my eyes are closed in sleep.

I don’t see the others, hundreds of others in the mirror –

An audience of old, wishful eyes looking, staring, gazing at one thing,

Looking at me.


Their minds willing my own slightly paralyzed mind,

Paralyzed into a parallel world, back into reality.

The invisible audience,

Waiting in the mirror, in every mirror –

Old, wishful eyes waiting for the era of sleep to end.


They hum their melody, slow and soft at first,

Vibrating the very crust of my protective shell of sleep.

The dust that had settled on my eyelashes,

It all falls to the ground,

Falls to the invisible lakes of water carrying my dreams.


The humming song becomes patting drums,

Beating a rhythm loud enough to unsettle the old, wishful eyes.

Crackling leaves fill my head, crackling under the feet of an audience.

They wait for my mind to return from swimming in the lakes of my dreams;

They wait for my mind to leap back, to let them fly.


My mind returns;

The lake dries up;

The leaves are blown away,

The humming, drumming, the melody, the song and the beat,

Turns into a buzz –

Thousands of buzzing bees, making sweet honey to feed the audience their fill.


I leave my mirror,

Back to my soft pillows filled with feathers.

The old, wishful eyes are no longer old or wishful,

But fed and satisfied, full and just.

They wave goodbye as their buzz becomes a clock,

My alarm buzzing on its clock.

Tick tock, goes the clock, and ends the era of sleep.



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