I looked into the mirrored glass
And saw myself in decades past.
This little lass I recognized,
The chubby cheeks, the same blue eyes.
The curls were loose on tresses thin;
No shoes to slow down where I went.
And then, the mirror smoky white
Displayed a scene, a star filled night-
When next appears another child,
I recognized her timid smile.
It was not I; she was my own
Sweet baby girl, in our old home.
A flounce of curls upon her crown,
With bows and lace upon her gown.
Her pinkie power- no surprise,
A princess in her daddy’s eyes.
An added mist upon the glass
Brought other scenes out of the past-
Our baby boy, our first grandchild
Our second, third… this mirror’s wild.
The dads, they loved all without fail;
I saw us silver haired and frail.
More mist emerged, and I saw clear
A family, with children near.
I did know their names you see…
but somehow knew my legacy.
Resemblances of faces known;
Some features which stood out in stone.
This looking glass which I spied through
Brought forth the love with clear views, too.
Dimensions beyond bad or good-
A vision which I understood.
Some things my life have come to birth;
Some things I won’t see while on earth,
Except within this mirrored glass
I saw my life as time was cast.
BG Jenkins ©2017
This poem was written from the Weekly Writing Prompt 8-8-2017
(1) You can see through your mirror to another dimension.
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