In Memory

A distorting mirror rests dusty on a whitewash wall,
Stolen from a funfair, hidden from grassy travel
By God’s strange plan. As you stare, it begins to unravel
Who you are. You remember your childlike bawl
At the seaside or the shopping centre. Your first
Best friend. Your first kiss. Your first good grade,
Or perhaps your first bad one. The first time you cursed
God for making you real. The first time you were paid
For the paper-run or working the bland office phone.
The first time you cried so hard you couldn’t speak.
Distorted in your mind, you see how you have grown
Into who you now are. Now defined by time. The weeks
Days, months, years of your life, arranged in a line.
Your heart aches for what has gone. All that lost time.
-- Keep dreaming, child, for what you have lost,
For now you are dead and have seen the mirror’s cost.