The Looking Glass

Peaking out, seeing your reflection every pass—

the home of the delicate floating speculum.

Sash— holding it so it does not move.

The freeing feeling of looking out,

I do not know what you will find,

but you watch the world move silent or loud.

I shield you from the outside

guarding the coziness of your home like a protector. 

Reflecting the clouds as the sun bounces on the pier glass.

Clearing the eyes of a fragile soul.