Who Are We?

 

Ripples over cold, hard stones

all we are; what we were

lost like water through our hands

who we are is never sure.

 

Troubled; fitful; frightened

tricked so easily by time

like we own our lives at all;

as if words are mine.

 

What are we but ghosts of smoke

are we even real?

left alone without the truth

trapped with what we feel.

 

Subtle, still once more we're fooled

thinking that we know ourselves

as we stand before the glass

might that be someone else?

 

Samantha Jayne Frost

All Rights Reserved

2011