The Eyes of My Reflection
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facing old age
THE EYES OF MY REFLECTION
March 6, 2014
Reflections
Tell stories
yours and mine
the eyes of my
reflection sees a refection
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 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
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 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 eye's of my reflection
Played tricks on me...
UNTIL;
a mirror caught my
reflection off guard
The reality of this
conundrum hit hard!
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 to late to die young.
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
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