Reach Out

To the ghost in your mirror

Dab on your blush and reach out

Take the hand into your own

Shake it with cheeky reserve

Hide yourself behind your mirth

Pass off the ghost as so quaint

Life styled in framed cultured glass

Antique reflecting your Now

Your past is prelude but dead

Your past forever orphaned

Ghost trapped in shadows and light

Wrinkled by lines in the glass

Your life is your own fun house

Monsters smiling back at you

Reaching for your fingertips

Nudging you to yesterday

Whispering from in that glass:

Why not live in your own past?

Why not be orphaned awhile?

Your life for your reflection

Tis not the devil’s bargain?

Or turn your glass to the wall

And forget what you have seen

Your past bereft of her call

Your future a pleasant mien

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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