A face.
It’s looking back at me.
It looks puzzled,
When it studies something, it seems.

Eyes of a warm summers cloud-free blue sky.
Lips reminding a dusty pink rose.
The skin is pale and the nose a little bit freckled.
The hair are limp and split ended, but they look like the golden sunset,
Which appear never to end.

Who is this?
That keeps looking back at me.

I greet the stranger with a smile.
The smile is returned.

The mirror is dampened when I touch the strangers face.

It’s me.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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