This poem was originally published on 30 July 2017. You can also read The Man in the Mirror II. I write one of these every few years as a moral reflection (pun intended) and poetic challenge.
Who is that man in the mirror, Staring back at me? I do believe that is not who, I was before. Is glad what I should be? He strikes a fairer figure, Not by complexion but by soul. And his heart, It is not taxed, But things have taken their toll. He wears his words on his arm, And we both slowly clench our fists. He looks me dead in the eye. Could he be just as strong? Will a fight be the end of this? And I take a stance, Thinking it’s like a dance, Only to realise I’m unfit, That I was not a floating bee, But a simple wordsmith. I let out a chuckle, He cracks a smile too. Though his motives are not clear, I can tell he’s a worthy match But fear him I shan’t do. Who is that man in the mirror, Staring back at me? I do believe that is not who, I was before. Is glad what I should be?