I love the mirror I got for my birthday
Its frame is plain and shiny.
Well made of rare and long dead trees.
I see in details a shape that’s s crafted
In time with care, by knowing hands
O
how it blinds me when the light shines on it,
how I can barely see a thing.
It’s then I wonder who that face is
And how it turns, and looks,
for other mirrors
To look in