The Magnifying Glass

“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.

Share this story