THE LOOKING GLASS.

I place my hand upon my head
and look into the glass
a pale, frail forlorn soul
curiously stares back
and when I tilt my head a bit
she mimics what I do
she peers intensely back at me
'My God, I wonder who?'
she has no hair and cannot grin
blue eyes did fade to gray
but still she mimics every move
I wish she'd go away.                                                                                      GO BACK