Show Us (by Nik)

An unwanted mirror stands vigil

on the kerb, snatching

portraits of passersby who

take no notice

I check myself daily

in that lonesome silver sheet.

Can mirrors be said to have memories?

Sometimes, there's a pigtailed girl

in the corner or 

the stern eyes of her father 

staring over my shoulder

On Fridays it plays games, puts

a bowler or red curls on my head, makes me

fat, tall, beautiful

Last weekend it was spent, too tired

by the wash of people

unconcerned by their reflection

too reveal any untruth

I looked at it

It looked at me and peeled back

the glass, unveiling its wish

to become a gold-framed

guest-room picture of two tigers

photographing the caged hunter with a 

glint of amusement in their amber eyes.

by Nik Way

- this needs future editing, will probably play around with different stanzas/line breaks or change the images to adjust the tone

- thanks for reading!