On the wall a lone mirror

Cracked though not broken

As I cross the oak laid floor

I could see the paint

Flaking in the high corners

The age of everything was similar

Now here in front of the mirror

I see the age in the Mirror

The mirror smiles back.

Hello old friend…. we meet again

Each time you flick my pages…. my breathe is set loose

Like an autumn breeze…. out seeking leaves

Or

Just enough to lift the cotton

Colours on display.