Old Beveled Mirrors – Prose-To-Be-Poem

Mostly, my prose is a poem expanded. I’m working on a piece of prose right now. It began with this poem:

Old Beveled Mirrors
She was thankful
for faded lampshades
twilight
the golden glow within
seen from outside
and that,
reflected in an old beveled mirror,
almost anything and anyone
can look tall.

Ellespeth

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