Mirror Mirror Poem by Deborah White

My Pisa bedroom dressing table
mirror frightened me. The first
couple of nights and I was fine
happy comfortable and relaxed.
Then I glanced in the mirror, a
dark old wooden framed mirror;
and I didn’t like what I could see.
The glass was gloomy distorted
and stained. Lord who was that
standing there and staring back
Were those my purple pyjamas
my white face, was it only me


I wasn’t altogether sure just who
or yet what was looking directly
back at me and I frightened myself.
I’m not even sure how, cold tingles
running down my neck and down
my spine, were those blurry eyes
that strange face looking back
actually mine? A lovely apartment,
a gorgeous bedroom but I couldn’t
get out of there a minute too soon.


Now I daren’t go to bed on my own
It’s my birthday and I am forty nine.
But for the first time in my scare free
life I can’t go to bed early, just me by
myself. My poor bewildered husband
would much rather have a cold beer,
sit up and watch the Roma v Chelsea
Champions League game, but we both
now have to go to bed together at the
silly old same tired time. I wish my Pisa
apartment bedroom was just as it had
been before, comfortable and relaxed,
with just a tiny hint of a creaky door.