Sculpted Mirrors


Photo by Erik Eastman on Unsplash

The hourglass of broken dreams,

Salute the restless tides,

Inviting my lonely heart,

To rescue my soul from death.

The solemn words of barren hope,

Do they speak to me in rhyme?

This poetry of lies,

Is disturbing the harmonies,

And the meaning of life.

I am at a crossroads,

Of fleeting moments,

And aching thoughts,

I ask the ghosts of yore,

Will time allow me to live,

In the corridors

Of a peaceful mind?

I wish that I could smile,

And feel alive,

For a little while,

But my sombre sky,

It does not allow

For the stars to shine,

Or for beauty to be mine.

So this is where my journey ends,

In between sculpted mirrors,

And a feeble lens,

Which reflects on all that is,

And will become.



Wallis May Streete

Mother of three. Freelance writer. Poet. Lyricist. Dreamer. “We are lost souls trying to find the light, and when we do, we dance with shadows.”