A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

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He squints out through the window in the backseat

At the dazzling array of lights.

He narrows his eyes and widens them again,

Controlling and shaping the image of the lights beyond

And the trails they leave behind.

As he watches and paints from within his carriage

He realizes he’s found

A pocket in time

That looks on to the world outside

Through light itself

Rather than just with it.

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