The Mime Poem by Jeff Fleischer
The Mime
On the streets of Paris I see the Mime.
A glorious clown, what are his visions?
He is a mirror image of myself.
Why is he wearing my mask?
Today he is smiling.
Will he be happy tomorrow?
I am dying to find out.
The question sticks in my mind all day.
The next day he is sad.
So am I.
Who mirrored whom?
Are we one or two?
Maybe one day I will find the answer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 3:39:12 AM # 1.0.0.1119
