I couldn’t see me in the mirror,
the mirror didn’t think I was there.
I saw life through the etchings on easels
and
watched days that saw more than I could.
Maybe the mirror reflects what is missing
and what is missing appears to be me,
should I stand here to wonder and stare
or go
back to where it began?
perhaps
I couldn’t see me in the mirror
because I hadn’t yet become
a man
© 2019, John Smallshaw.
