WHAT THE MIRROR THINKS

The mirror sees them
arguing, but:

says...nothing.

It, observes them as so
much human furniture

that, most of the time
are nowhere

to be seen.

"Here 'n' gones' " the mirror
thinks of them.

The mirror reflects
a tiny breeze

unseen in itself that
dances with the white

net curtains
stained with sunlight.

The shadows creep
into corners

waiting for
evening.

The mirror shows
an aspidistra

that always dominates
the tiny room.

it even refers to
the tattered Penguin

Orwell

fallen to the floor
still...unread.

The carpet the mirror sees
is genuine

Persian, but:
it has seen better days

faded with sunlight.

There is a small hand mirror
on an antique wash basin

that still holds
the woman's scowl

for a few moments, but:
now. . .doesn't.

Mirror looks at
mirror.

But, again:
says....nothing.

There is - nothing
: to say.

The humans have gone
taken themselves out of

the picture
so to speak.

But, their anger
still hovers in the air.

The curtains
are still

...dancing.

"Hmmmmmm..?"
thinks the mirror

"...Hmmmmmm!"