To Marcy Howard

A mirror’s called a looking glass,
And in fairy tales it could tell,
Who and what looked at it,
Inside the scars we hide so well,
As we look at its reflection,
At the person we behold,
Through events the eyes have changed,
It seems pain, can make them cold.
 
 
As we gaze at the face we see,
Is that reflection looking back,
Does the reflection understand,
Who’s there or what we lack,
While we look at the face inside,
This mirrored pane of glass,
The judgment we place on ourselves,
Are echoes of our pasts.
 
 
The person looking back at us,
Is just a persons shell,
Those lines and wrinkles that we see,
Are the map of their own hell,
Is it us, that looks at the mirror,
Can the reflection know the soul,
And does the image realize,
Without you, I’m less than whole.
 
 
There are times I truly believe,
That eyes, are our souls mirror,
While the reflection we seek to find,
Can never make love clearer,
The glass is looking at each of us,
As we struggle to perceive,
If love is looking back at us,
And in that love, do you believe.
       Found.

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