Who are you?
Who are you? He says,
Gazing at the boy trapped behind
the looking glass, staring back.
Eyes wandering in curiosity, his face
slightly tilted towards the discovery,
Eager to greet a new companion.
The other responds, tilted fingers brushing
the frame, holding the delicate glass,
mirroring his stance.
It's an everyday thing, he assumed,
the little interaction they held closely.
Seven years later, his longing pursues,
brushing off the dust to reveal the cheap item
hidden behind covers, staring again,
A weary visage is all he sees, droopy eyes of defeat,
Who are you?
-D.N
2.6.2025


















