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Between the Window and Its Reflection

A blank slate.

By KBPublished 8 months ago 1 min read

Between the window and its reflection

The blank slate appears; fresh and clean.


But down below, things are as it was.

Old and rusted, yet still serene.


I look out into the rusty sky

And recognize a light clicking sound.


I’ve heard of this sound before

Pinging off the buildings around.


This time, the click turns into a ring

Pleasing like chimes in the wind.


I see the old man, shovel in hand

I notice how much his skin has thinned.


He twists the lumpy soil into new earth

Sweat dripping from his brow.


It reminds me of my grandfather

Who also taught me how.


He taught me to be brave

And fight like no other.


Now he no longer comes around

Not even for my mother.


Because his idea of love

Doesn’t include mine.


My thoughts are spoiled,

My actions are a crooked spine.


But between the window and its reflection

The blank slate still sits.


I notice that down below, it isn’t as it was

I find newer pieces of change, tiny little bits.


The rust can soon be cleared

So long as I free myself of it first.


And so, descending the steps to greet the old man

I find the roles have suddenly reversed.


My window from up above reflects the sky

The clouds rapidly drifting to the right.


The air is sweet with sweat on my face

And I can finally look towards the light.

sad poetry

About the Creator


A snippet of life. Some real, some not. Thanks for reading!


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