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The Mirror
A faded mirror
Hangs tilted to one side
Of my bedroom wall.
At nights, I stare into it
And my face stares back
Until my eyes close
And my mind drifts into slumber.
Sometimes, when I stare,
It is a woman's face
Old and gray
Like a wadded ball of dust
Left in the corner
Of an abandoned room.
Sometimes she speaks to me.
Tells me to do something
That I would rather not do.
Somethings she asks me to sleep.
But on rare occassions,
Such as tonight,
She just stares.
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