(Poem 343 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
A reflection is merely
a light wave echo,
rebound optical rays,
boomerang spectral particles—
how fitting
that Narcissus was cursed
to fall in love
with the likeness
of himself,
a mere copy.
Had he truly
known how to love,
he might have been kind
to poor Echo,
that sad nymph
of the woods
and spared both their lives.
@Home Studio – 343rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Reflection photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 184 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/rUA3Kt https://gencraft.ai/p/k2G0lW https://gencraft.ai/p/UdPZrD
My mother’s voice was
a bit exasperated at the
absence of anyone home.
I did not hear the door
behind her as she left,
but hurried to let her know
I was there and say hello.
I opened the front door;
she was already in her car
but she turned off the engine
when she saw me and
decided to come back in,
or so I thought…
In her reality, she just
arrived, had not yet stepped
foot in the house, had felt
no annoyance at the absence
of anyone and made no sound.
What future echo did I hear
that never even happened?
@Genuine Joe’s – 184th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Echoes photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 