By Nancy Deal

I glanced at my reflection
As I was passing by,
And this brief inspection
Showed a sight that wasn’t I.
No sunburned nose, no uncurled hair,
No slightly crooked grin–
Just a wall, blank and bare,
Where a mirror had always been.



Until I found this in her papers, I had no idea my mom played with poetry. Based on another poem in the small batch I found, I’d say this dates to the mid 1960s.


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