Robert H. Thayer

Oxford, Massachusetts

Reflections

As I stood outside my window
I saw reflections there
'Twas of a tranquil garden
With flowers everywhere.
Trees and shrubs were swaying
In a warm summer breeze
But as I gazed upon the ground
My blood began to freeze.
There lay this little crumpled form
Sprawled out before my feet
A voice, silenced by reflections
Whose heart had ceased to beat.
Just because it looks so real
Doesn't actually mean it's so.
Reflections are but images
Reflections come and go.
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