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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