Reflections:

I am the old ruin on the edge of town. Once a bright large stately home filled With gaiety and laughter, with servants Scurrying around, cleaning, washing, cooking And children playing in my rooms, With soft music being played on a piano. I am the old mirror hanging on a decayed wall. I am now opaque with dust. People once looked at me and admired my gilt edges. They used to smile at what they saw looking back at them. I was always faithful and true. Now I am silent, lost in my memories. I am the old book left on a dusty shelf, now forgotten. I too am covered in dust and my contents disregarded; No longer relevant, unwanted. I was once read many times, But not anymore. My bindings all but broken. A faded photograph on my front cover. But now I sit and wait, and wait, and wait. I am a mirror that waited until one day somebody looked in me again and I felt the cobwebs begin to blow away. They looked, not with a monotonous languor but with interest. They were refreshing, Enchanting, but they went away, and I am left, alone. Alone. Alone, lost in my thoughts.