Alice’s real reflections
Click to enlarge. Source: Whisk.
She twirled and grinned—a grand display—
But not herself looked back her way.
In one, the Hatter sipped his tea
While time stood still (at half past three).
In two, the Queen screamed, “Off with head!”
Then tripped and stomped her royal tread.
Another pane began to chatter—
The Cheshire Cat (just teeth, no matter).
His grin was wide, his tail askew,
He winked and said, “I’m more real than you.”
She peered again—no Alice there,
Just Tweedle twins in underwear.
And in the next (oh, what a fright!),
The Jabberwock was brushing teeth at night.
“Where am I gone?” young Alice cried,
“Have I become all mirrorfied?”
The Caterpillar puffed with flair:
« You’re just the thoughts that fill the air. »
She tapped the glass—it giggled loud,
The March Hare danced, absurdly proud.
A looking-glass, it seemed, could lie—
Or tell the truth when dreams pass by.
Then up she climbed a mirrored stair,
And saw herself—but with white hair!
« Too much nonsense warps the view… »
She shrugged and said, “Well, that will do.”
And off she went, quite unconcerned,
While every pane behind her turned—
Each one a tale, a trick, a jest,
Of stories that had left her vest.
The end? Oh no. The glass still plays—
It traps our dreams on rainy days.
