Under the soft glow of the evening light, when playtime whispers fade,
Child: "Hello, who are you?"
Mirror: "I am you, but not yet seen."
Child: "Why do you sound like rain on quiet roofs?"
Mirror: "Because I carry stories of dreams lost and wishes untold."
Some nights, the mirror talks back, not in words like stars, but in shadows like sighs.
Do mirrors feel lonely, or is it just their glassy eyes staring at our backs?