Glossy Black

Glossy Black

Glossy Black

Stare into an empty photo frame, and what do I see?
The glossy black is a mirror, shining into me.
I see stills captured, of backyard grass and and power lines
Of schoolbuses in a row, and a starry night sky.
Of booting computer screens and chocolate piles in friendly stores,
Of journeys home and finished books, leaving me wanting more.
I see mountains with icy peaks and roads of cars unending,
Empty pages calling, cameras capturing me pretending.
The seashells of Goa, a stunning view of the Dal,
Faraway lights through a window on a train ride to Nainital.
Views above the clouds and the waves of salty seas,
The trees of my neighbourhood, as I feel a chilly breeze.
The school entrance towering, and slowly getting smaller,
A classroom door open, as familiar voices holler.
Familiar voices silent, as others take the stage,
Eating, laughing, reminiscing, as we hide the pain of age.
A blue screen lights the room, framing faces faraway,
Some changed and feeling foreign, some still smiling the same.
I reach for the power button, a click, and then I see,
The glossy black is a mirror, shining into me.