The Face of The Past

My misty breath fogs the mirror,

As I wipe the glassy surface smooth,

I perceive my face, as I come nearer,

I stare back at me, with the eyes of a youth;

What must he think, looking at me intently,

Is he satisfied? Or disappointed in me?

We smile, as our palms touch gently,

Through his eyes, into my soul, I see;

I see my demons staring back,

My angels smile at me too,

I wonder when the mirror will crack,

Who am I? I introspect, with dreams still due;

Is this who I am, or who I want to be?

What if him & I are different,

Maybe he is he & I am me,

In my time & space, there is a tangible rent;

Maybe I am beyond him, if not I shall make it so,

The man in the mirror, is someone who.................needs to grow.