Poetry

The Mirror of History

A glimpse is not enough to see thine face,
Thy light is couldn't be found;
Nor voice that could haunt me...
Where art thou my beloved?
I could see you standing there...
But where are you?
I couldn't see your face!
What I see is only that old...old... mirror
But not on the wall...
It's in the box; full of old time memories...
Now, I slowly pick it up...
I'm wiping it out
To show the world
The mirror of my life; their lives.
Just a piece of History.



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