we plead, “mirror, mirror, upon the wall”
like vanity before snow white’s death fall
“what have you done to me? that’s not my face!”
bouquet of flowered beauty –not a trace
youth’s pink blush gone, now yellowing appears
and sleek combed hair sticks up in fern-like spears
sweet bloom arranged in lovely china vase
reflecting back some weedy basket case!
what once were tender buds, no blossoms brag
where perky petals peeked, dry sepals sag
sketchy mirror, you lie! –won’t tolerate
image alone does not determine fate
perhaps the mirror does reveal true age
but real wisdom’s grateful to reach this stage.
Linking to Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction challenge…check it out!
a poem in my pocket 
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