To that English teacher I once had...

I bought a mirror today.
A second hand mirror,
so when it arrived it had a reflection of a face pre-engraved on it.
I tried to look but  I was not there.
Just the shadow of a reflection...
squashed in the corner of the room behind me.

That image was so remote
that my eyes began to water as I looked at a tiny caricature of a person I might have once been.
Have I been that?
But I have.
squashed in the corner of the room behind me
was the image of the reflection of my past.

Squashed in the corner of the room
was the reflection of my self
distorted by the cracks and uneven surface of the glass.
Tiny dwarf under a giant shoe.

I had already bought the mirror and since no returns were allowed I was forced to watch
as the image began to morph itself.

It stood up from the floor and it began to walk.
An old voice sang a song
'you are wasting yourself here,
your place is above not below'

I was wasting myself there,
my place is above not below.

I stretched my hands and as they pierced the glass
I smiled to my memories of you,

The image in front is clean and bright
It left the floor,
it left the room,
it even wore the shoes that fit its oversized feet.

I bought a mirror today.
A second hand mirror...
It came with a crack full of sunlight and breeze...
I hung it on the wall,
but it tilted a bit
to reflect the light and send it to that tiny spot in the corner on the floor below.