The Looking Glass

I looked into the mirror one day just to see what I could see.

I saw looking back the smooth reflection of a young man all of twenty-one.

He was dressed out in his swell Sailors attire; he was holstering a big ole gun.

I then smiled and crisply saluted; he too smiled and saluted back at me.

Then again one day I looked into the mirror just to see what I could see.

I saw the smiling yet slender face of a different fellow of about thirty-three.

His eyes were not quiet as bright and his hair was sporting streaks of gray.

He stood a bit more stooped and looked at me as if he had something to say.

Now yesterday came disguised as today limping on the whispers of a knowing wind.

I looked reluctantly again into the mirror to visit once more with my old, old friend.

Oh how I was surprised to see how far removed he had become from thirty-three.

Lines now creased his once boyish face and the coolness in his eyes hinted of lost dreams.

Therefore I arose today with a new thought and purpose for the yesterdays of my past.

I grieved not for that which is never again to be, for the reflection of today was built on the yesterdays and the promise of tomorrow is not held within the beveled edges of the looking glass. 

J. Allen Wilson © 2007