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Mirrors
March 17, 2016
I open the wooden door,
It sighs with a creak.
Rain whispers more,
Onto my red cheek.
Rain drops slow,
An imminent cold.
A pleasant shower,
A constant hour.
Every water tip,
A quiet drip.
A smooth blend,
Into an infinite end.
A moving reflection,
A facing complexion.
A fallacious mirror,
Yet so much clearer.
I look through,
And see you.
Yet you are me,
An equal decree.
And I stare in,
At myself and I.
To a dark grin,
A delusive lie.
© Terrin C., Humboldt, IA
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