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.!

ageprose poetry

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