Face pressed against
Dimly lit glass,
The boy once glimpsed
Through and saw
The man.
Unkempt hair
Smooth chin,
Would one day
Hide behind
Gray beard,
Head still wild
Young child
Perched on a knee,
Perhaps.
The thought lingered
While time meandered,
And in my mirror
I see him again -
Plump cheeks,
Smooth-faced,
The child
Who played
With demons
Danced with angels
Kissed the lips of God.
Lost all his battles
Yet still stands
Not completely invalid.