As you peer into the mirror, the glass doesn’t hold your reflection.
Instead, a depthless abyss stares back.
It is echoing whispers, torn voices –
Resurrected shadows of yore.
A visage formed, then disformed, dissolves –
Each contour a memory unkind.
Did the mirror know them in another lifetime?
An owl hoots in the distance,
Percussion of lament on haunted wood.
Go deeper or find solace.