Poetry

The Pride Before, 7 (220.)

Faces float on by
Faces I knew a long time ago
Like the scent of a pie heated by the oven
A flash of recognition
Then

Does anyone really know you?
Will the berries taste the same
As they did in decades past

Who really stops to stare from the mirror
It is some kind of me
Perhaps a doppelgänger
What thoughts do I think
In the place above the sink?

Some conversations I should have had with myself
A long time ago
Are you okay?
What do you want?
How was your day?
Is it too late?

It’s never too late
Midnight comes and goes like clockwork
Quite literally
The poetry really has left this one
I and the mirror, we both feel
The call of the 4 AM frenzy
Fingers type faster than ever
Somehow, work gets done

Let it rest
Take a nap
Sit in silence
All that
(crap)
Jazz

The things I do for rhymes …

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