The Mirror - A Poem By Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact.  I have no preconceptions.
What ever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful - - -
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles.  I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart.  But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her.  She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
I'm not too good lookin'
So Come Vote for Me.
Morph Picture by Ozarksoft.com

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