Twohandsup: A Poetry Compilation

Mirror

The day was late and time was ticking
And the presents were wrapped and undone
I just finished saying goodbye
To each and everyone
As they left, my father faintly smiled
As to my surprise
He said, "I've not given you your present
yet, and in your room it lies."
I smiled, as did he, and he led me
Down the creaky hall.
He opened the door, beckoned me in, saying, "Go on now, do not stall!"
Socks on the floor, cautiously creeping,
I entered my room to see
Shoving away siblings who were peeping
A mirror there waiting for me!
Covering my mouth, I smiled and gasped
And as to be polite
I said, "thank you, thank you Papa!
Oh thank you for this night!
Oh, Papa, how really much was this?
What trouble did you bear
To get a mirror-so expensive and pristine
All shiny and glistening there?"
He smiled and laughed, fatigue in his eyes
His working late hours clear
But suddenly, something moved inside
And I backed slowly away in fear
"Papa? Papa?" I cried with nerve,
"The mirror, it's out of whack!
When I stare at something in the mirror
When I move, it moves right back!"
My father was nowhere to be found
I decided to take a look
At the surface, so majestic and proud
Laid out there near the Holy Book
I pressed my fingers very lightly
Squinting hard to see
If anything peculiar there
Was right in front of me.
I squint, she squints in harmony
Everything looked all fair
I tried to be thankful for the gift
How it mimicked my dark skin and hair
Aha! It moved, did you see it there,
It moved when I was still
Even though I wanted to leave
I did not, against my will
Gasp! I could stick my hand straight through
And felt some blank space there
No hard wall, just emptiness
And that was a very big care
I reached further and further
And suddenly I knew what I had to do
I moved my body closer
And gradually I pushed all of it through
Mirror! how haunted, looking night
Mirror! I felt as I was a clown
Mirror! Frightening, what a sight
For instead of looking straight I was looking down
Moist, this mirror,as I came to know
Wetter than fresh hands of a potter
My mirror, as I actually thought,
was literally just water!

This poem takes place in an African country. The narrator is grateful for the mirror because the mirror is clean water on the floor, which is not common to have. It reflects the narrator's "dark skin and hair." This is one of my favorites for the message it portrays about how little other people have.