Each time the mirror
mirrors his face,
the old man inquires
his ominous fate –

How has this come,
from young to undone?
How have I come
to this time in space?

Time has just taken
my life away
in drips and drab trickles
and plopped down in place

This Face! This Face!

The face of an uncle.
How has it come
to this time and place?

A young man has grown,
whom once he had known;
no longer now present,
the young man is gone.

He tries to dissemble,
but the features resemble
the face of an uncle,
an uncle now gone.

How has it come,
to find him undone?
No longer a fine face
of one that was young?

An old man inquires
each time it mirrors,
a myriad dires,
the mirror of fate.

©2015, Marvin Welborn
1 July 2015