I found this ivory colored round mirror
tucked away so hidden waiting to be found,
what mysteries does it hold beyond its
smooth glass surface? What did I discover
as I looked at myself each day?
My rosy cheeks and shadows of dark
eyeliner caressed my tired face, with
eyebrows so precisely painted yet fully
revealing their mystery and intrigue.
Silver is my hair, and like mercury it
reflects and slides across the slippery
surface of my mirror. I mediate on the
colors of my dying rainbow.
I have looked through this looking
glass for far too long, it’s become a
part of my actual being.
My darkness separates me from this
flickering glass between night and day,
its reflection is always faithful as it
reaches out to me showing my age
and deteriorating beauty.
The mirror does not lie, it comes and
goes without any remorse, reflecting
my shame as tears roll down my cheeks,
this friend my mirror has buried the
young girl and holds captive this old
lady who faithfully looks beyond all the lies.
It’s a cruel truth and admission of who I once
was, its shimmer and aura reflects my withered
skin, it smears the glass as well as my vision
with tears filling the holes and ugliness
beholding my age and takes over the truth.
So don’t tell me lies about the crow’s feet
you don’t see, they clearly pinch at my old
skin harboring bags below my eyes that
stare back at me. Oh mirror mirror is this
really me? with hair so silver and tints of
I leave now to sleep the deep sleep, to dream
of yesterdays when I was young, reckless,
careless and so free to be me, and men
wanted me for more than me a spirit who
became what you now see.
© Copyright by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved