Blurry
Every day is lived in shadows,
Every movement is performed.
A reflection in a glass,
Constructed through a storm.
People see through crusted windows,
Half the story, and half its form,
Learn the start, find the last,
On a journey to be born.
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I think Jenna Morris did a wonderful job with her rhyming- I loved the imagery she put into it and it seems to have taken a bit of thought. I would like to see more of a progression of the poem. Have something else happen, it is a bit unclear to me of the meaning. I may be over analyzing but it loses me. Otherwise TWO thumbs up Jenna!!!
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