Posted in Books & Stories, Fiction & Poetry





I gave up putting on my face years back

A crusade of my making one could say

Mirrors were given away

Not the bathroom medicine chest

Of gold no, but functional

Tear it off the wall would leave a gaping space

Shelves exposed

Better closed thus

Leaving more time together

No need for them to cry and wait

Not understanding why the paint

So beautiful was she

Secure happily we played

An extra hour we’d gained


But that was then


These days


At the head of a class

I stand before a crowd

But they don’t like what they see

Their demons awake

That before slumbered uninterrupted

They come, manifest groggily

Darkness filling broad day

Boney fingers reach for my nape

Thumb pressure squeeze

Eyes popping I speak anyway

A teacher silent cannot be

That would be me


Their young faces change

I look into dead eyes

Weren’t they alive

Nothing of light remains

Except for what’s mine

It blazes within me bright

With passions I shine

Beacons turn

The room is filled

All at the same time

But holds nothing in this place


Now welcomed to hell

They know and they leer

Some sneer and hiss

Aware I stand my ground

And bide what is time man made

Until their demons freed are returned

Resting back in cavern’s cave deep

The deeper the better

For me anyway

There let them stay

Though forgotten the worse so they say

When the night demons visit

Makes no sense to take fright






I’m a self-published author of two books, a blogger, grandma, mom, auntie and friend... I’m also a TEFL instructor, have lived in a few other countries besides the US. I love walking, cooking, reading, traveling, teaching, learning, language, movies, vampires, mummies, zombies, other assorted creatures of the night, science fiction, romance, action, adventure, classics, Latin, Soave, Chianti, D’Abruzzo, Ouzo, Sambuca, Bulleit Bourbon, Plato, the ocean and tanning.

2 thoughts on “Mirrored

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