Today I glanced in the mirror.

A child looked back at me.

His nose is freckled,

his hair is fair,

he sticks out his tongue,

and laughs at reflections there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror.

A schoolboy looks back at me.

His nose still freckled,

his hair combed flat.

He thumbs his nose

and grins at reflections there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror.

Adolescence looks back at me.

The freckles have gone,

the hair unkempt.

He loves a girl who doesn’t love him.

He scowls at reflections there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror.

A young man looks back at me.

The face is brown,

the hair is fair,

He feels alone, too young, too old.

He sneers at reflections there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror.

Today is my wedding day.

The face is happy,

and so debonair.

He waits for his bride

and smiles at reflections there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror,

a father of three today.

A face that is older,

a face with crows feet.

The look is vacant and far away.

No response to reflection there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror,

middle age stares back at me.

The face is longer.

The hair flecked with gray.

Contentment at last!

He smiles at reflections there.

 

Today I glanced in the mirror.

 
 

David Garlick, Mazatlan, January, 1990