A Mirror Image

The sunlight mirrors an image Upon the water's face Of a woman of younger years Is what the illusion so creates Gone were the lines of aging And the folds upon her face Gone were the creases holding All but the least had been erased As her image vanished Another lay just beyond And soon came running into her arms Was a small child of her young If she had not reached the age of now She wouldn't know of the younger one So with a further hug she smiled and cried, "At last, I hold the winning one!" Brenda Elizabeth Rose