The Enchanted Mirror
In the dust-laden hush of an old antique store,
Behind rows of old trinkets and clocks that implore,
There hangs a mirror with a frame etched in gold,
Its surface like moonlight, both tender and cold.
No ordinary mirror, this much is well known,
For it does not show you the face you have shown.
It bends time’s great river, it shifts and it sways,
Revealing both yesterdays and unseen days.
A girl steps inside with her heart full of doubt,
Her fingers trace ivy carved all around out.
Her breath fogs the glass, and she pauses to stare —
But what gazes back is not quite what is there.
Her childhood eyes blink in the silver-lit glow,
Her hands small and soft, clutching ribbons of snow.
She sees the child she once tried to outgrow,
The one who still dreamed of the worlds she’d outgrow.
Tears fill her eyes, for she knows that sweet face —
The girl who believed every fear could be chased.
She reaches to touch it, but ripples break through,
The child dissolves like the frost on the dew.
Now the mirror twists, the reflection grows long —
Her face wears the lines of a journey too strong.
A woman stands there with wisdom and grace,
Her eyes are her own, but her years leave a trace.
Her hair has gone silver, her back slightly bent,
Her smile like a map of the places she went.
Her hands look like branches that weathered the storm,
Yet still she stands steady, both fearless and warm.
The girl gasps aloud, her heart quick as a drum —
"Is this who I'll be when the long years have come?"
But the mirror won’t answer, it only reveals —
It shows her the truth that her own self conceals.
For time is a thread that no hand can unwind,
And the past and the future are mirrors combined.
The child, the woman, the one in between —
Each version of her is the whole, the unseen.
Another man enters, a man grey and worn,
His coat smells of rain and of roses long shorn.
He stares at himself with a gaze hard and grim,
But the mirror, as always, shows more than just him.
He sees a young boy, eyes wide as the sea,
With shoes caked in mud and a heart wild and free.
His laughter still echoes in forests of green,
Where wonder was king and the world felt serene.
Then comes a face older, alone on a shore,
His hands on his knees, his dreams fewer than before.
The tide pulls away, and it leaves him behind,
A man who still searches for what he can’t find.
He grips the frame tight, his eyes wild with pain.
"Is this all I am? Just the loss and the gain?"
But the mirror won’t answer, it offers no lie —
It shows him the truths that no man can deny.
For in every reflection, both future and past,
Are moments that flicker too quickly to last.
The child, the dreamer, the man with the crown —
Each one must rise, and each one must drown.
The mirror hums softly as night settles in,
Its frame glows like embers, its surface like skin.
Many will gaze with their hearts full of fear,
Seeking answers to questions that only grow clear.
For none can escape it — the truth it bestows.
The past never sleeps, and the future still grows.
The child in the glass is the ghost you outpace,
The elder is simply the you you’ll embrace.
So the mirror hangs quiet in shadows and glow,
Its secrets like whispers the wise only know.
No spell can outlast it, no lie can deceive —
For the enchanted mirror reflects what you believe.
Behind rows of old trinkets and clocks that implore,
There hangs a mirror with a frame etched in gold,
Its surface like moonlight, both tender and cold.
No ordinary mirror, this much is well known,
For it does not show you the face you have shown.
It bends time’s great river, it shifts and it sways,
Revealing both yesterdays and unseen days.
A girl steps inside with her heart full of doubt,
Her fingers trace ivy carved all around out.
Her breath fogs the glass, and she pauses to stare —
But what gazes back is not quite what is there.
Her childhood eyes blink in the silver-lit glow,
Her hands small and soft, clutching ribbons of snow.
She sees the child she once tried to outgrow,
The one who still dreamed of the worlds she’d outgrow.
Tears fill her eyes, for she knows that sweet face —
The girl who believed every fear could be chased.
She reaches to touch it, but ripples break through,
The child dissolves like the frost on the dew.
Now the mirror twists, the reflection grows long —
Her face wears the lines of a journey too strong.
A woman stands there with wisdom and grace,
Her eyes are her own, but her years leave a trace.
Her hair has gone silver, her back slightly bent,
Her smile like a map of the places she went.
Her hands look like branches that weathered the storm,
Yet still she stands steady, both fearless and warm.
The girl gasps aloud, her heart quick as a drum —
"Is this who I'll be when the long years have come?"
But the mirror won’t answer, it only reveals —
It shows her the truth that her own self conceals.
For time is a thread that no hand can unwind,
And the past and the future are mirrors combined.
The child, the woman, the one in between —
Each version of her is the whole, the unseen.
Another man enters, a man grey and worn,
His coat smells of rain and of roses long shorn.
He stares at himself with a gaze hard and grim,
But the mirror, as always, shows more than just him.
He sees a young boy, eyes wide as the sea,
With shoes caked in mud and a heart wild and free.
His laughter still echoes in forests of green,
Where wonder was king and the world felt serene.
Then comes a face older, alone on a shore,
His hands on his knees, his dreams fewer than before.
The tide pulls away, and it leaves him behind,
A man who still searches for what he can’t find.
He grips the frame tight, his eyes wild with pain.
"Is this all I am? Just the loss and the gain?"
But the mirror won’t answer, it offers no lie —
It shows him the truths that no man can deny.
For in every reflection, both future and past,
Are moments that flicker too quickly to last.
The child, the dreamer, the man with the crown —
Each one must rise, and each one must drown.
The mirror hums softly as night settles in,
Its frame glows like embers, its surface like skin.
Many will gaze with their hearts full of fear,
Seeking answers to questions that only grow clear.
For none can escape it — the truth it bestows.
The past never sleeps, and the future still grows.
The child in the glass is the ghost you outpace,
The elder is simply the you you’ll embrace.
So the mirror hangs quiet in shadows and glow,
Its secrets like whispers the wise only know.
No spell can outlast it, no lie can deceive —
For the enchanted mirror reflects what you believe.
- Khushi Kaul
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