“Don’t look through the lens.
There’s no reason now to see,
when you’re a little older”
Mother whispers to me.
But skies were full of color?
Wonder met my eyes.
I couldn’t see a problem
if they were magnified.
I wished to touch the handle
and bring it to my face.
Look through the illusion
could I find outer space?
What’s behind the glass?
And why can I not see?
Eager yearned and ached,
what’s behind the mystery?
Curiosity pulled me forward
for it became a race;
a tool to see the details
was what I sought to chase.
Once I’d finally reached it,
my heart leapt and beamed.
This was the very moment
cemented in my dreams.
My garden was so pretty,
what else would I see?
I gripped the black handle
and brought it close to me.
But soon my vision dimmed,
no more color in the grass.
weeds spewed like oil
from the magnifying glass.
I shrieked in fear and horror,
I prayed to pull away.
Acting as an explorer,
I’d seen too much today.
The magnifying glass
was no longer magnificent.
I lost my skies of color,
I’m no longer an innocent.
