Mirrors reflects walls

Longing for smiles
Quill and scroll
Wait for a scribe 
Candles flicker
While lovers bicker
The canvas sits blank
The unused paint dries 
Mud puddles sit stagnant, 
The children’s boots are clean
The adults say, “not today”
While tots stare vacantly at screens 
History longs to tell us her tales
The future begs us to lift our veils 
Songs wail for soulmates
With no tilted ears
Poetry sits on a page, unturned
Cozy, warm fires
Chill with fear
And passion no longer burns 
The fragrance of a rose
No nose knows
The winding path 
Is now obscure and overgrown 
No longing for travel, or wonder
Or for our ultimate home 
A tear in an eye
Refuses to fall
Pain no longer hurts
No desire for anything more –
When we are distracted by 
Cheap imitations and dirt