On reflected light

I am this wild reflective surface;
your light pours over me
and I
with all my curves and edges
feed it back
to any casual observer
with my own peculiar permutations;
the picture may include
some neighboring reflections,
in a different shade;
a touch of my surroundings --
which always frame your light
and bear their own reflecting surfaces --
and then, of course,
however gray the day or I may become,
some color finds its way into each thought --
a tiny spark of past or future dreams --
and also, lest you find it too obscure,
a thoughtfully placed handle;
most likely at the intersection
between yours, mine and ours.


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