of mirrored reflections on shattered glass

A devistatingly good poem. A huge poem speaking of the real horrors of life and death - the need to obtain permission to die. Looking after love until the strength is what resides in fingernails alone. You have become a great communicator, Jayne-Chloe. Big big hugs, Brian

God, woman, you ask too much. ~Mum p.s. mirrors are plural, not singular, possessive p.p.s. title: of mirrored reflections on shattered glass (?)

A strange nightmare of a poem that when listened to, yes listen! It can orchestrate the shattering of the mirrors with such intensity that the pieces get caught in our eyes as we read it and we bleed in sympathy with its mysterious message; cry out in our sleeping thought cycles and are left without speech. One big , no huge, GYNORMOUS(!) sigh dearest Jayne, may your mirrors reflect the beauty of your 'soul' and make you ever joyful. Ann.

Oh shine bright leader of our minds your stoic face against the wind your charmed and lovely poetry though with its shaded side gives hope and joy in difficulty we learn from you your pride of stance your trace of meaning your flashes of inspired happiness do glitter in our minds a thousand, thousand times like diamonds fine so big so beautiful we reflect this shower of love of life of all you meet and sing in chorus we love you as you are, we love you for what your write we love you for what you do to us we love the very spark that expresses this your life as art we love you from our heart. Just Ann. P.S. I wrote this just now, just here, no notes, just now for you dearest sweet, kind and loving Jayne.

You packed so much in there with so few words ...lush...moist...green...dense...shadowy...air...

I see a darkness in this . Brilliant. Barry ...o..

I felt this as if it were written to me. But I've been up for days although. Thank you, You have touched me becareful you may not be able to shake me lose if you keep this up. Love, Donnie/Sinbad