The Glass

So here's a poem I did a few days ago :)


I examined you from the distance in the car.
I was imprisoned by the moving traffic and a door.
But I could see you from the glass that I’m grateful for.
I examined your existence.
You walked pass slowly,
On the street, passing by an art gallery.
Looking through the glass, so slow and steady.
Your speed decreased, as the movement of my eyelids did.
You were looking at a painting, still walking with a slower speed.
I examined your back, like how you did with the painting.
And I saw your existence, painted on the glass
Your reflection, on the plain mirror canvas.
You moved on from that painting, as I was still examining you.
You looked straight and your speed was increasing.
What I saw was two men walking, side by side once more.
The traffic light was still red, I was stationary.
You were still walking by your side and by yourself.
I saw you turned to your left again.
Was it another painting?
I saw you turn to your left again.
The traffic light turned green.
You were looking at your reflection, I think.