From your position,
having left the earth,
what you see is yourself,
your faults,
your actions.
The vaguest of images
of those who once surrounded you
can be seen
but you can't touch them.
You can reach out,
but the barrier of the mirror
and of time
prevents you.
You watch them as they grow
and realize you will miss their life,
their faults,
their actions,
as you stare from your heavenly perch.
You stare at your reflection,
watching,
waiting.
As life passes by in the background,
you come to the conclusion -
death is like a mirror
with an ugly reflection.
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Note: this is chapter one of something that will rarely be updated. This is going to be a collection of poems based on the Harry Potter world.
Any guesses as to who the poem is about would be much appreciated. Again, correct guesses will earn you a drabble dedicated to you. No guessing if I told you already!