Mirror
The face that's staring back
Is not mine
Much too old to be me
Eyes lack lustre, dull
Telling signs of age
Another grey hair?
Knotted brows
Eyes half closed and
Sleep deprived
Inside I cringe, first sip is hot
Taste of caffeine to ignite the cells
Spark of life at last
Temptation to return to bed
Overruled by duty
Look of longing reflected, dismissed
Later. Not soon enough.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection 3
PoetryPoetry Collection 3. Some of it will be random Some emotionally charged But most often it will just be bizarre.
