Shadows & Mirrors

Burning lamps kiss the air tenderly
A soft whisper that whimpers gently
is lost in the echoes of the room

There is a broken wind that sporadically
gusts with a sharp yet controlled howl

Along the hall stands a grey weather
beaten figure, who glares into a dimly lit

The pale face that stares back, hag-ridden
and dazed, numb with guilt now

The shadows linger for a while, but
reflections, they never fade

Copyright © 2023 Gareth David Ogilvie

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