The Mystery of Love and Time

it happened before the second equinox during the eleventh hour

while I was here again, as before.

she was there, 

lying quietly on my round chair 

in the stillness of the vacant room.

head down

arms along each side,

I saw her as I walked by

and in a flash, she was gone

no one else around

games of love and life

careful of the reflection, ma'am

mirrors don't lie

behaviors reveal more than you know

I see through those forced smiles

and careful words.

the dark rises when heads are turned,

yet, I will no longer walk this tortured path

of empty steps

and wet grass...

Reviews

[.]

~~ (for me) you bring out an important theme of existence in this beautiful and moving piece of poetry, alisa... ~~ while i don't believe that individuals are always a source of their own torture... there is a part of torture that we can say no to... i mean at least we can protest...

[Alisa Js]

Hello serah,

I agree. So nice to read your thoughts again....

Wishing you well.

Alisa💫

[.]

~~ it's nice to read your poetry again too, dear alisa...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is like someone who is seeing a reflection of herself, after she has died---there is a reflection, unlike a vampire who has no reflection in the mirror, and yet she knows that a part of her, (soul) will live forever, but her body and heart will no longer feel the tortures of life---now her life is merely retrospect.

[Alisa Js]

Thank you, j...

It does make you wonder sometimes....thanks for stopping by.

Alisa💫