Looked in the mirror this morning,

studying the face who starred back.

Old, wrinkled, and a smile – no,

More a smirk,

Wondering what I was doing.

Then I looked directly into the eyes,

Falling, falling, deeper, Until

I began to see

ALL the things these eyes had witnessed.

Good, indifferent, bad,

It was all there, looking at me,

Looking back at me.

2 thoughts on “Me

  1. If that is so, them most poets are missing some of the richest content they will ever have at their disposal. Seems natural to me, and there will be more forthcoming, maybe too rich for public consumption, at least at the beginning.

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