SMOKE AND MIRRORS

I gaze into the mirror and see now, what never was there

And it is my reflected image, replicated to my very last hair.

But how do I know for sure that such image is real and true?

And the handsome and smiling reflection is me and not you

As I have never ever been,

On my other side, looking in.

I am weary of the photo, as it is of no assist

And for certain my real doubts will persist

As the camera's obtuse angles and poor light often lie

When forcing an image through a ground lens' eye.

So when I look into the mirror what in reality do I see?

I see not reality at all, but the distortion time has made of me.

I have some pictures of my bride and me taken some 60 years ago.

She is still she, and I am me, but that's not what the pictures show.

I compare their images to those I now see in the mirror,

And I am surprised, and oh yes, I do withdraw in utter horror.

As I do most clearly, and most certainly see

How badly a mirror can distort one's reality.