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.
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