| THE MIRROR |
Leaning heavily on her cane She hobbled to her room She felt the old age creeping in With a growing sense of doom And also she felt bitterness That she was here alone Too old and ill to get around Trapped inside her home She crossed over to the dresser Gently touched the ancient wood Wondered where the years had gone Life used to be so good... Angry tears ran down her cheeks As the mirror caught her eye She stared at her reflection Wondered how it felt to die As she stared, the mirror clouded And then began to clear Staring out at her she saw A child of seven years!! Two long braids of auburn hair Fell half-way to her waist Dressed in the style of long ago She scampered off in haste! The woman blinked in disbelief Leaning forward on the shelf Wondered if she'd lost her mind For the child had been herself! The way she must have once appeared Over 80 years ago The mirror clouded up again And then it cleared to show A young girl in her twenties Clad in a bridal gown With a handsome man beside her Again, there was no sound And the woman at the dresser Sat and cried long held-in tears The bride was none other than herself As she had not looked in years Then the wedding faded too The mirror turned once more to gray The woman waited motionless She could not move away The next scene was a touching one A mother with her child The old woman watched and felt again A love both fierce and mild And as the mother in the mirror Rocked to hush her baby's cry The oid woman's lips moved silently In an age-old lullaby |
"This must be a dream," she thought "For I know that mother's me" She tried to take in all the details As her old eyes strained to see And then in quick succession She watched her life pass by Saw her children grow and leave Her husband once more die And when the mirror cleared a final time The reflection was her own She felt old and sickly still But somehow, not alone All the memories she had seen Before her in the glass Seemed to fill the room with love And good feelings from the past Her bitterness had disappeared As if it were never there And all of her self-pity Had vanished in thin air She'd had her share of happiness She'd been a good man's wife She'd had four children who would be A testimony to her life Her face took on a happy glow That came from deep inside And rocking there before her mirror At peace, the woman died. Dusty Richardson c 1998 |
| THE MIRROR |
| GOT A COMMENT? VIEW OR SIGN THE GUEST BOOK! RETURN TO PREVIOUS POEM RETURN TO TITLES PAGE RETURN TO SITEMAP RETURN TO FRONT PORCH |