There is a point when
we don’t recognize
the person in the mirror.
The little tragedies of daily
routine gather, one upon another,
until one day the person in reflected
glass can only stop and stare.
The dark circles,
spreading crow’s feet,
laugh lines or are they
frown lines, the creases
formed in the middle
of forehead. You’re not
sure who is looking back

at you. You’re not sure

who you have become.