When
I was younger, I’d lean nearer,
My
reflection in the mirror,
And
study (not what you’d assume…)
The
things behind me in that room.
Because
I thought that other place,
More
intriguing than my space,
And
golly, wouldn’t it be swell,
To
go there and bid home farewell?
Just
think of all the fun I’d find,
Adventures
of the heart and mind,
Why,
I could almost picture it,
As
through the looking glass, I’d flit.
I
did not know, I could not tell,
‘Twas
a reflection, just a shell,
That
‘other room’ did not exist,
With
my face floating in the midst.
And
even if I managed it,
(Going
there for just a bit)
Well,
backward everything would be,
And
I’d have trouble being me!
And
so I put that dream away,
But
brought it out just yesterday,
A
great deal older now, I look,
Things
still look good in that Mirror nook.
I
couldn’t see the dust and litter,
No noise to make me squirm or skitter,
And
backward everything may be,
But
no more backward, now, than me!
I wouldn't have to cook or clean,
I'd go in and come out lean!
So Through a Looking Glass you see,
Sounds like a perfect place for me!
This poem is part of a Monthly Poetry Challenge.
Each month a new theme is chosen.
This month's theme?
Through a Looking Glass!
Care to see what the others have done with the theme?
Look here!
Baking
In A Tornado: Look Again
