The Eye's of My Reflection

THE EYES OF MY REFLECTION Reflections Tell stories yours and mine the eyes of my reflection sees a Reflection. Peering out of the glass or bouncing off ripples in clear water, my eye's see the eyes of my reflection deciding how to transmit. The image that is no longer the one that used to be. since it is no longer there it's not the one that my mind should see This image of my former self who I used to be. The eyes of Our reflections withheld secrets. cruel tricks played on my sanity the secret now revealed' My reflection protected me at least until I healed. There again was a shock The “me" that used to be. The eyes of my own Reflection- Pitied me. Self-rejection- I was happy to see the same ole' Self-looking back, at me. Images long transmitted reaching me with the speed of perception. There was my faithful reflection. Revealing only images of former my face in the untruthful looking glass. Never was shown to me the reality "The eyes of my reflection" transmitted the same image to my Psyche' the picture it had taken twenty years before. The years lept and the "winter Solstices" lingered and slept. Years reported no change time slowly crept. My faithful reflection never revealed the reality. As if my eyes knew that for me there would be no solace in my naked and wrinkled reflection. . With eyes that could never give me straight answers as to why... For me, there was no solace the light had been moving slowly Prayers held "Old Age" at bay- Like Dorian Gray moving and projecting slowing down my aging. The debt was now due. Then the leap years lept, and the moon slept, and awakened in Leo too many times. The slow-motion blocked the sun... It was time for the truth, The truth wrestled with illusions. And for me, time stood still, Shocking was the conclusions the winters were colder and the summers were hotter. Why were the eyes of my? reflection full of deception? Like deception holding the truth in escrow, until I could come to grips. My brain afraid to face me and report to me the truth as it be. Maybe I could have held on to my dignity, grow old gracefully The eyes of my reflection hid THE images. And time had long abandoned my side. Foe nor friend never mentioned how I had become swollen with pride. The eyes of my reflection Played tricks on me... UNTIL. A mirror caught my reflection off guard The reality hit hard, a conundrum. Had to walk backward to get another glimpse of the lady in the glass, who had on my favorite coat? " Baby Jane " the syndrome" Now, I fear it is too late to die young.!