james marx - poetry

what I write is fiction, what you read in it is the truth.

 

poetry

haiku

short stories

about

 

Reflections on Reflecting

 

That is me, at the table.

Alone in a dining room,

Used plate & dirty cutlery.

Across the room a window,

Darkly reflecting the candle

In front of me.

 

It flutters when I breathe,

I do not see my own reflection,

Only the effect on fire.

A brief moment in time.

 

I wonder, looking at the darkness,

The flame, which one is real.

 

 

copyright JD Marx 2013