In a gilded frame
There is no canvas
Only non reflecting glass.

Reflect upon the self,
Knowing the self
More and more
Each and every day.

The frame deteriorates
Subject to life’s challenges
Taking on a different hue
As age determines
A different view of self
Deflected in the glass.

Who is it that stares back?
Looking back in time
Can it be the same you or me
Almost the same inside
But so different outside.

I hardly recognise us
Is it you or have I changed
Into something rich and strange
Strange certainly and rich
In other ways than wealth,
Except that wealth is in others
Not so much in me betimes.

Values have morphed
I may be valued otherwise.
What do you perceive in that
Transparency, that
Mal-reflecting glazing
Which hangs on the wall?

Perhaps in hope you ask:
Mirror, mirror …
To the whispered reply
‘What is your question?
You know the answer!’
© David Tenneson 2014.


About David

Devonian writer
This entry was posted in ANGEL, HAPPINESS, POEMS and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

I value your comments, please tell me what you believe

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s