The Memory Window

All that colour, perhaps it's green

 Memories of a me I once was  

 

Maybe  

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