Mirror in the morning,
What face do you reflect?
A keen enquiring visage,
That does study and inspect.
As I stare and wonder,
At the likeness in your shine,
I’m fraught with thoughts confusing;
Which eyes are really mine?
Flashing form and figure,
From a surface smooth and thin,
What would your picture be without
My experience within?
So when at last I leave you,
What fills your glossy plane?
With no one to peer and ponder,
What does that glass contain?
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