
Typewriter Series #2780 by Tyler Knott Gregson
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Found my reflection
waiting on the stillness
of some small pond, not a
toad or fish disrupting
the surface with ripple,
and so there I was, maybe
always been there, maybe
heard me coming
and so rushed to lock eyes
for a moment.
Leaned over, hands on knees,
and saw the face looking back.
Narcissus stayed, turned flower
and remained, cursed and
locked in gaze at what
he saw.
The eyes I found seemed older,
softer, the mouth opened
only to whisper
“nothing to see here,”
and so I looked away,
and so I rose.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
Published on November 06, 2019 19:54