A Spectre of Oneself

I look out the window and what do I see, a sad face in the shadows looks back at me.

I stop and ponder, what has caused this face. Was it life, was it me, was it being in the wrong place.

Life can be so very kind but it can also be as cruel. Its how we play the hand we are dealt.

Do we embrace it or do we carelessly forget the lessons learned and lose all that we treasure, to be cast aside like an old pelt.

So although the face staring back is sad, time will repair all these things gone bad. I will look back with some regret but remember that this is life, least I forget.

A Spectre of Oneself

anqelique

Mansfield, Notts, United Kingdom

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poetry

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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