Mirrored Dimensions

Mirrored Dimensions

I looked into the mirrored glass
And saw myself in decades past.
This little lass I recognized,
The chubby cheeks, the same blue eyes.

The curls were loose on tresses thin;
No shoes to slow down where I went.
And then, the mirror smoky white
Displayed a scene, a star filled night-

When next appears another child,
I recognized her timid smile.
It was not I; she was my own
Sweet baby girl, in our old home.

A flounce of curls upon her crown,
With bows and lace upon her gown.
Her pinkie power- no surprise,
A princess in her daddy’s eyes.

An added mist upon the glass
Brought other scenes out of the past-
Our baby boy, our first grandchild
Our second, third… this mirror’s wild.

The dads, they loved all without fail;
I saw us silver haired and frail.
More mist emerged, and I saw clear
A family, with children near.

I did know their names you see…
but somehow knew my legacy.
Resemblances of faces known;
Some features which stood out in stone.

This looking glass which I spied through
Brought forth the love with clear views, too.
Dimensions beyond bad or good-
A vision which I understood.

Some things my life have come to birth;
Some things I won’t see while on earth,
Except within this mirrored glass
I saw my life as time was cast.

BG Jenkins ©2017

 

As first seen on MonnaEllithorpe.com

Have a good day!

Sincerely, BG

Be sure to subscribe on the left.

Portrait of a Paintbrush

 

Portrait of a Paintbrush

He’s kind of shy and not been used
For painting colors in bright hues,
But in his mind, he has a thought
A flow’ry glory, to be sought.

Pale purple daisies in his scene,
Soft billowy flanks with blades of green.
A weathered post and split rail fence
Smeared rusty brown for recompense.

The shy paintbrush, with bristles soft,
Begins to paint, while breezes waft,
An azure blue and silver sky,
Pale daisy sprays, near mountains high.

Green grasses wave in fields with pride
By goldenrods, perched on the side.
There’s baby’s breath that’s cast amidst
Wildflower fields the sun has kissed.

More daisies line a graveled road
Aclad with hues, purple and gold.
A barn, white house, and split rail fence
Are center stage, with daisies dense.

Sweet lilacs too, make a debut
With tulips, red, but just a few.
A lovely, brilliant sight to see
Alight in vibrant imagery.

But near a spray, leaned on the rail
A paintbrush, dressed in purples pale.
His handle, plum and dotted white
With bristles worn, supple and lithe.

The artist, in his masterpiece
Leaned on the rail in perfect peace.
His portrait splashed for all to see,
In lavender divinity.

B.G. Jenkins

© 2006

 

Be sure to subscribe on the left.