Mirrored Pond

Realized,
In a fit of loneliness,
A figure walked down a road,
A road of lesser dreams.
Soft sounds permeated the nightly air,
Filling with beauty and creativity;
Only the occasional scream.

The nighttime air,
Lantern filled to the stream,
A magnificent sight,
A longing fills the seams.

Down at the pond,
The only alibi,
For a mask-wearer,
Late at night,
Comes from the reflection,
The reflection,
Of all their dreams.

Lasting but for a moment,
Till the figure moves on from the wish,
Existence fading,
It wakes from the scene,
The Mirrored Pond,
Sitting in my dream.

ISA

I shouldn't have to tell you, but none of the pictures are mine. I own only the poem. I merely provide the pictures from other sources.