A Goth's Reflection

A rose has died and a seed is born
from the fallen paddles.
From a dew drop
and paddles like velvet
a reflection is born.
Dripping from my mind
memories of a long forgotten time
passed by my window reflecting what I have lost.
I look to the reflecting of time
I notice a gap between me and the passage of time.
The pools of light reflect for me beauty of night
and a light beyond any other.
This is my reflection.