“The mirror that holds my enemy”
She’s transported back in time,
sees another young man
holding onto the bathroom basin,
tears silently coursing through the lather.
“I can’t shave” he wails
“I can’t bear to look
into the eyes
of the stranger
in the mirror”.
Her arms instinctively reach out
to her long dead son.
Inspired by the poem Rivers of Tears from the blog