Soul in the Mirror

The mirror holds a soul who is wiser than I will ever be I catch tiny glimpses of her as she flits in and out of my eye range What is she thinking? Where does she go when I face the mirror? Am I losing my mind? But wait, why would my eyes lie? I quietly wait for another tiny flit and flash, hoping to catch her this time Ghostly cobwebs glide past my right eye; I know it is her She laughs at my frustration, for she is not to be seen or caught I know she is there as well as I know my own thoughts and dreams.