I look deep into the mirror of truth,
it is a looking glass;
a seeing glass that echoes my youth,
and life ticks- an hourglass.
Ego ideal,
life is but a circle . . .
O, to have beauty like a pathless wood,
where often I have stood . . .
The rapture of a stream,
the moon's reflecting gleam.
My reflection portrait,
an image so intricate,
with great sadness reflecting in my eyes.
O, the mirror never lies . . .
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September 21, 2017
Rhyme/The Mirror Never Lies
Copyright Protected, ID 941569