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.