Tell me, mirror,
which face do you see
behind the glass?
Perhaps it’s a pale face
unsullied by sun,
moist and unlined,
a glowing reflection
But, let me scrape away the surface
to reveal the clear glass in places,
as if it were old, tarnished
and distressed.
Tell me mirror
which face do you see now?
Perhaps the face seems hazy,
patchy like the glass
as it reflects lines
and textures,
and blemishes.
Well, as time has passed both have
picked up some dirt in passing.
Maybe it’s darker still
in places,
in the deep places
not usually seen
Did the scraping away the glitter
reveal the treasure
and texture beneath
or is the new reflection a distortion
of reality.
Tell me, mirror,
which face do you see?


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