All that colour, perhaps it's green
Memories of a me I once was
I can't remember.
Those small things, are they petals?
But they're green, so no, something else
Leaves me confused
About where I am,
What is this place?
And what lies between me and there?
I see nothing, only someone's reflection.
Is that me?
I raise my hand, something solid
Stops me knowing
I'm not seeing the wood for the trees.
previously published on Kalanopia and originally written in response to a photo of an older woman looking at her reflection in a window
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