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In a musty attic,
Where cobwebs gather
And drape themselves
Across long-forgotten treasures,
The sunlight falls in streams
As airborne dust catches its radiance.
There, caught in that stream,
The pale-faced girl kneels
Before a gilt-framed mirror,
Her glassy gaze falls downwards,
To the rotting timber planks beneath,
Not even noticing
The image trapped
Upon her looking-glass

The mirror boasts not
Of her reflection,
But rather, caught behind the glass,
Lies the sallow appearance
Of a man, once young,
With bruises for eyes,
And rivers for nostrils,
And a pallid ghastly face
That looks to her, pleading,
Breathing prayers of adoration
That fall on deaf ears.

Her glazed eyes
Could never reach
His desperate gaze,
Could not register
His fierce pounding
Upon the frame of his prison.
He might have well been a ghost:
Silent, invisible,
Yet unable to rest.

          The mirror turns.

Now, the man is on the outside,
Pleading with her to look,
To raise her eyes,
To see.
His desperate cries
Choke and strangle in his throat.
In frustration,
He raises his fist,
Brings it down on the glass
Again and again,
Shaking the frame
In which her image is trapped.

          The mirror fades.

A mist crosses over the golden frame,
Wiping away her soft image,
Blotting out his last hope,
His only connection to that forbidden world.
The mist condenses into fog,
Then suffocating smoke,
Forming a grey-painted canvas
Of a once brilliantly gleaming mirror.
He shouts, lifts his hand again,
Crashes it down upon the slate.

He should have known
That it would fall apart.
For how could he expect
Such a fleeting image to last,
With she, but a memory,
And he, but a ghost?

          The mirror cracks.

Spider webs now dance
Across its blank screen.
The glass shatters,
And a tremble from his hand
Scatters the pieces
To oblivion.

In that musty, forgotten attic,
Where cobwebs gather over long-lost treasures,
A shadow falls to his knees and begins to weep.
a very, very rough draft of a poem that shall be posted later... as soon as I can finish up my portfolio & format the darn thing... >>

yup, Reilly, this be an early version of the poem I emailed you. the one I'm still working on... :dead:
darn final portfolios... I could use another Konrad-slaying session, mate. xP or I'd even be content to sit back and eat ice cream with Aubrey while I watch you guys battle... >>
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CaptTreasureTroveTi Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
"The Looking Glass"? ;)

Zee series of books inspired this, eh?
k-ee-ran Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2008  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
no, it actually didn't... it's just that "mirror" sounded so anticlimatic. :hmm:
CaptTreasureTroveTi Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
^^; Hmm. That does make sense. :hmm:
FreeFlyingSparrow488 Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2008
Interesting...I like it! :D
k-ee-ran Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2008  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
thanks, mate! xD
CaptTreasureTroveTi Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
That so? I'll head to gmail then ^^

Ooh, the edits with "the mirror fades" "cracks", etc... = me likey :XD:

Perhaps... if you still have your mirrored printout image-ness like last night... :plotting: Ye could print it and post that to give the readers a better feel of the reflections...?
As a preview image, maybe? ;)
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Submitted on
November 30, 2008
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