Reflection

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why do I look in you, at all,
For all I see is the same old me,
And not how I so want to be.

Mirror, mirror on the stairs,
Why do you show me many years,
A face with wrinkles everywhere,
Would anybody like my share.

Mirror, mirror near my bed,
In you I look with certain dread,
For creams and potions just don't work,
Behind them still the wrinkles lurk.

Mirror, mirror in the hall,
Seeing you makes me recall,
That I am now of senior age,
Well stuck into the wrinkles stage.

Mirror, mirror by the door,
How I hate you more and more,
I'm having to look the other way,
When my reflection's on display.

by Ernestine Northover

Comments (10)

A wonderful and witty poem Ernestine. I think this is why God makes your eyesight worse as you get older so you can't see the wrinkles. Love, Andy xx
Ernestine, I loved this poem, and I identify with it. Mirrors - cruel indeed, especially those ones at the department store! Then it occurs to me that I have always seen the negatives in the glass, even when they were outweighed by positives. Now I just take off my glasses and use nature's own wrinkle-filter. Warmly (and blindly) Alison
oh my dear, the mirror is every humans worst enemy. I love this poem.
I fully agree with Gina. I think people are what they say and what they do and no matter how much advanced in age they are, their inner beauty turns any wrinkles present into attractive features. Look at Sean Connery, Ernestine. He is beautiful because his inner beauty shines through not becuase of his looks. If we ever meet, I shall see the beauty of your words interwoven in fascinating forms in your face. I have a beautiful mental picture of you. Susie xxx.
A mirror reflecting inner beauty would paint a completely different picture, speaker (are you the speaker, Ernestine?) . With warmth, Gina.
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