Shining up the polished glass, Reflections she can see- Two cherub faces bounding past, Squealing merrily. Their feet are light across the bed, Warm laughter, up and down; Her eyes refocus on the glass, Her wrinkles, pallor, frown. She’s seeking out the stubborn smudge the grime, the stained, the mess; She scrubs hard at the filth in hopes it will wipe out the rest. Her pursed lips thin, her tired gaze, Her hair a hurried bale; Her body is recoiled, rebelled, Once joyful eyes, now pale. Their loose young curls, their glistened eyes, Their joyful carelessness; Will they keep this youthful joy? Or ruin, like the rest. And with this thought, she starts again, Resumes her mindless task, Abandon useless reverie- Shine up the polished glass.