Lookingglass
Plain bronze frame,
warped oval glass,
a flea market find,
a lead-laced history of light.
Gazing into it,
he sees a mind picturing -
a boy and girl on a park bench,
the boy is looking at his boots
his legs swing back and forth.
He is falling in love.
The glass bubbles, diffuse facets
blur their far-away faces.
Two souls, both sealed
in a lost reflection of time,
yet even now
reaching through
an old man’s looking glass
to glisten upon a teardrop.
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