The Looking Glass

I find myself falling through the looking glass, see
I wonder of a stranger, I wonder of Georgia, does
She laugh at the slightest thing, leaving dimples
On sunburned cheeks? Do her thoughts chase her
Deep in sleep and wake her with their quiet whispers,
While telling her that they are too restless to be put
To bed? I find myself falling, like rain falls blanketing
The earth connecting strangers who have never met,
These are the questions a stranger once asked another,
They called her Georgia, such an extraodinary name, does
It weigh upon the mind or conjure images of wheat fields
And lazy summers, lemonade and a bouquet of daisies,
Of a promise laid upon one's lips, so here I stand before
This looking glass like Alice lost in Wonderland busy
Wondering of a stranger.