Dec 2nd – A Mirror Image of Who He Once Was

December 2^nd – A Mirror Image of Who He Once Was

23.45-23.55

Him, but in reverse:
a turned-around picture
of still life.

Side by side,
they were almost identical;
almost, but not exact,

a hair out of place,
a betrayal of a spark
behind the smile.

Can your mother even
tell you apart, they
used to ask, and if she

could, then the teachers
couldn’t, not often.
Almost identical, on the outside.

they thought differently,
though, as they grew,
both up and apart,

found their views
clashed, on everything.
It wouldn’t do to agree

on everything, people
used to say, but they
agreed on nothing.

They let continents divide them,
one stayed at home,
the other sought himself

in a city of strangers.
It took a funeral
to bring them together,

side by side, in the church
they were christened in,
their mother, boxed in.

Different suits: one black,
one grey, black ties
broad and narrow.

Each one looking at the other,
at the life he missed out on.
a dirty reflection, tarnished.

They would stay for the words;
of sympathy, and memories
of who they used to be,

but reflections don’t touch,
and there are continents to space,
to be themselves again.

 

Inspired by a prompt from here

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