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Wavering Reflections in Silver Crests

Wavering Reflections in Silver Crests

My thirteen-year-old self

Meets me at the mirror,

She tells me that it is nice to meet again

Then touches me on the shoulder

And smiles brightly into my fifty-two year old face,

“Welcome back”—she says cheerfully and kisses my cheek

The mirror stands between us—somehow it wavers

as she tells me, her secrets of travelling back in time to become my younger self

I’m confused as I glimpse her young face and long legs that I once

had before my body stretched and widened to produce three baby girls

Could she really be here again?

“Come with me to the glimmering light of hope and I’ll show you what

remains ahead for you”

I hesitate—can I really trust my image from the silver mirror?

Taking her hand, I float away with her into the filmy resin of the glass

“What will become of my past?”

She smiles sweetly, it formed this—and she waves her hand towards

a vision of magnetic proportions that I could never grasp inside

my mind—it is my future that I somehow never dreamed of reaching…

turning my back on her as I awaken my pillow cradling an older head,

pouring rays touch my aged skin starting to wilt and bend around my chin

My view in the mirror becomes unoccupied and boundless,

I feel hollow, but uninhabited.

—J. E. Cook ©2014

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