Looking Glass

The moon travels the sky in an arc and I trace its path along the glass, following where it must have risen and where it will sink. I breathe against the cold pane and dip my fingers against the smooth surface. As the fog fades away, I wish my life’s road was as straightforward and knowable.


Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at https://redgladiola.wordpress.com

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