The small one in my mirror
Smiles and frowns at the world
She moves little yet frets
Changes her moods and frames
The old one in my mirror
Does not want me to see
The depths of her wild sadness
When she looks inside me
The fresh one in the mirror
Awakes her early morn
With the song of the new day
And a raw taste of choice
The real one in the mirror
Yet does like what she sees
In spite of all the wrinkles
‘cause she likes to be me
(Marianne
Kfar Shalem
6-5-2014)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem