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The Looking Glass

With sleepy eyes I looked in to the
looking glass and could barely see
a stranger looking back at me.
With no brow hair in place
only a rim of gray hair to brim his face.
Father time has put a roadmap
upon his face a hollow here and
there and his are just a stare. Putting on my glasses I can
clearly see it is a reflection of
its real me. Father time has taken it's toll.

Where the time went I do not know.
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