Blanks

There are no reflections to be seen

a long brooding look at a face I
once mistook for a Gods
and no channels into an afterlife as if life
had no other purpose than to drain us

no reflections here along the corridors of mirrors
only the silence to remind me
of the way to some long forgotten walked up avenue
I remember that was where I met you
but it’s difficult to recall the year

no reflections here,
Worn away but
wise now to the wind and rain
if I had to do it all again
I would abstain

© 2017, John Smallshaw.