Through the glass

Through the glass,
the world is distorted,
fractured,
warped,
like a panic attack.

Muted colours twist
summer greens to winter greys.
Light, faded and cracked,
and familiar.
Nostalgic.

I cannot cross over,
into the place the voices hum
and the engines rumble.
Too near
and too far.

Through the glass.

Hello there! If you made it this far, consider hitting that Like button, or drop a comment to let me know what you thought. This was my first attempt at poetry in well over ten years, so be gentle.