A stifled whimper
The sight of your back arching
Hands gripping at sheets
Head turned toward the mirror
Watching with eyes wide open.

Once a day I get a visitor
occasionally its twice
Its a guy who looks just like me
he seems troubled but quite nice

He shaves his face and brushes his teeth
spits and has a rinse
Tries to flatten that wayward hair
he's not a frog but not quite a prince

And the he looks me in the eyes
and I see the thoughts go round
Eventually he lowers his gaze
and looks down to the ground

He looks to me like someone lost
uncertain of his way
I can see so much inside him
that he has yet to say.

In time I'm sure he'll find his way
better things will come to pass
But I have no way to let him know
for I am his looking glass.

What does the guy in the mirror see
when he's looking back at me?

Does he have the same questions,
about who I used to be.

Does he know where the grey comes from
or the crows feet on my eyes

Does he see his own reflection
and wonder what inside

Does he wonder where the boy went
so confident and sure

Does he know when this old man showed up
who knows nothing anymore

Does he see the honesty that lives behind my eyes
Does he feel my pain, can he hear my sighs

Each day he looks me in the eye
and sees right to my soul
But holds for me no answers
on why life takes such a toll

No light pollution
Celestial nakedness
No noise pollution
Woken by crickets not cars
Pencils, notepads, poetry

Ten items or less
Deliberately ignored
Causes checkout rage

I think therefore what?
I am, I know, I could be?
Perhaps I just think.

Summer is too hot
And yet Winter is too cold
Ungrateful extremes