Looking in the Mirror. (New Ending)

I do not recognize the face in this photograph.
The person I was last summer is not the person I now am,
Or wish to be, this bright mid winter morning.
Threads of cloud drift high above the skylight.

Compared to this likeness snapped in August
My reflection in the mirror is slightly skewed,
Misshapen by flawed glass, by shards of sunlight filtered
Through frosted bathroom windows.
A fog of condensation streaks the walls.

Cruel winter and the air seems thick with dreams.
Each day when I blink back at ageing features
Through tired eyes, through smears of bathroom soap,
They seem a little different than I remember,
A little less substantial, a little less my own.

Maybe winter is a time for transformations
When we shed the skins of all our yesterdays,
Discard the ghosts that haunt our family albums,
The frauds that clog our phones.
We cut the links to who we used to be.

This reflection in the glass is just a mirage,
A mime artiste peering through his mask
With urgent eyes, but spying nothing true.
A  wistful smile curves his painted lips
Into a silent question.

I look up through the skylight at the clouds,
Tangled strands that quickly break apart.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 16th. - February 11th. - 12th. 2018.