The mirror will tell me I have grown
through decades but I’ll only see
an image of what was
when there was a you and me

Before the force of gravity
concured my skin
and my blood grew slow
like mud in a fountain

trying to drain to the ocean

This painted glass breaking light
back through the first circle
and triggering a memory
of what we can’t fullfill

the thick yellow sun that rains in
covers my days
giving a spotlight
for the dust to replay

until I wake and pass the mirror.