Echoes in the Glass

Posting a photo is like setting a lantern on the river..

its glow already says, I was worth lighting.

The current carries it forward,

the reflection already approves

simply by staying lit.

But some return to strike a match again,

as if one flame wasn’t enough,

as if the river needed proof

the lantern was worth its own fire.

It’s a double-echo,

like clapping for yourself

in a hall where the walls

were already built to echo back.

It feels less like love

and more like carving your name twice

into the same stone,

as though the first cut

wasn’t deep enough to hold.

Approval, once given,

is like fruit picked from a branch..

there is no need to bite it twice

to prove it was sweet.

If it tasted of rot,

you would have left it on the limb.

Still, the gesture remains

a feather stroked against your own shoulder,

a self-hug in a room of strangers,

a second smile in the mirror

that was already smiling back.