In the Mirror

my birthday stands before me

her finger crooked, beckoning me

but to where?

feet planted, but still I race forward


vision impaired, or perhaps never clearer,

I see years gone by, a blur

of light and dark, mostly dark

some stop to remind me

there was love and laughter

tiny feet once ran my floors

and the sweetest voices knew my name


music swells around me, meant to comfort,

a sorrowful sound

the hand that guided crooked finger

clutches my wrist, no mercy

I’m pulled closer and closer

to oblivion

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