A thousand mirrors whisper, speak,
Like ancients crying from the past,
Enticing visions—bold and meek—
Where mystic elves once strode, steadfast.
Before the ship of the setting sun
Clasped them in its loving arms,
A journey endless had begun,
Life bereft of all their charms.
A thousand mirrors waiting, bleak,
Longing for their master’s hand,
Silenced by age, unable to speak,
Broken, yearning, where they stand.
~ Morgan C. Morgan
Writer of light, shadow, and the stories between.
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BooknVolume 
Lovely poem and picture.
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🙂 I appreciate you so much!!
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