The image storied

I saw my dark and evil self reflected
in the eyes of India. Displaced,
yet placed in cruel relief. The image
flickered, mocked and sighed.
So much for who I thought I was.
Within those eyes my heart lies bare,
a crystal vision on the pool,
so deep, so black and never plumbed;
but true – the image stored.

Advertisements

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s