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
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