Reflections in the looking glass
are there before we see
they never try to criticize
or work to insult me.
Such views are clear and sharp
they hold no hidden clues
the angles all are facing us
and wrinkles are our dues.
The rings below our eyes don't lie
those crowfeet always tell
of age and lack of restful sleep
and lies we try to sell.
Harsh mirror's eyes are never tired
our stoop and shudders cannot hide
clothes often are less messed or strewn
then we are, though we've tried.
Reflections there cannot be fought
our grace in age revealed
recalling memories from our past
lost now and far afield.
93
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Time is the greats reflection and glass reflects the face of image. Beautiful poem on reflections and realizations.