I think it’s not quite accurate, and doesn’t show it all.
I see the solemn vestiges of life that’s now gone by,
Sometimes at speeds that bend the rules and make me wonder why.
All the wrinkles forming on my brow are from much more than age,
They come from things that happened and from them I try to gauge
The worry and the pain I’ve felt, and also all the joy,
The life and love and happiness that nothing could destroy.
In my eyes I see reflections of the times when love was new,
When all I really wanted was to be caressed by you.
I’d feel your arms around me and your cock pressed in my back
And we’d make love with the mirror watching, never keeping track.
You are often there behind me, although sometimes I’m alone
And your eyes roam down my body and then venture to your phone,
At other times I feel strong arms around me yet again,
I close my eyes and lean in close and feel no chagrin.
I think my true reflection is more like that in a lake,
Its surface still and calm and yet below prepares to wake,
The wind blows, causing ripples and I see myself distort,
My features meld and blend into a rather confused sort.
My fingers break the surface and I open up my mind
like a flower craving sunlight as I leave all this behind.
When the water stills I see myself look back into my eyes,
And I know that things will turn out better than I can surmise.