Reflections...

A place for everything,
my mother said,
and everything in its place.
But not so easy when
reflections flood
and spill out of their space,
when trees take root
where chairs alone should stand.

This is a concertina world...
the sun glides round, and as it moves,
light's bellows play
their silent, visual tunes:
a maple leaf, four jonquil blooms,
two maple leaves, an orchid (blue),
an orchid (white), two candle flames,
a chair back and a cushion. Stop.

Move self or head, stand up, sit
down. Relax. Move back. An image moves,
sets off a one-arm-bandit sort of roll.
Then STOP! and fancy that
you hear the fall of coins.

All things are possible
where shadows fall
on rays of light.
This palimpsest of rooms has several keys.

The subject was set as prompt by Peggy Goetz at Poetry Jam