Through a forest I was walking
And stumbled on a stagnant pool
The water looked back at me, balking
Reflecting me, the gazing fool.
I pondered on this pond, you see,
And hated what returned, my vision.
The scars that showed, invisibly
Did rend my heart with pained precision.
"Was this really me?" I thought
Or was this person only clay?
Could this fragile shell be taught聽
To come across a different way?
So from the forest I retreated
Tempered mind and body too.
A little worn, though not defeated
I whittled worries down to few.
I returned in winters grasp
As snow and ice was rife and cold.
My vision I did try to clasp
And realised then that I'd grown old.
Time and effort it had taken
To release the pained reflection.
Though seeing it I wasn't shaken
My new and imperfect perfection.
Thank you for reading.
A thetalkingduck original
I'm looking to improve my presentation as I'm not used to writing blogs or on social media much in general, let me know how I can do so please 聽馃槉 聽