What if ripples in the water
Were a disturbance of my being.
Feelings agitated as easily
As my reflection upon the surface of the lake.
A stone thrown into my depths
Shattering the icy charade of normality
Constructed to deceive.
What if I was as transitory as the breeze
That blew across the water
Or spring showers or the fall of autumn leaves.
What if my reflection possessed
More reality than I’ve ever dreamed.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.