(11) The Mirror

(11) The Mirror.
The German mirror in my bathroom
reflects the ash marble floor,
just in front of the bedroom
coffee stain, the fuzzy layer,
the brown colour, the dust-bin,
the double-cot, with a clean blanket,
and a pair of pillows,
the majestic split air-conditioner,
the all pervading hypothermia,
I could feel these, I could see
the reflection in the mirror,
I could feel the exotic fragrance
Of lavender,
I could also view reflection of
my grandson, a toddler of ten months,
a replica of its child-like imprint and innocence.
When I washed my wrinkled face,
Mirror, my friend , made a mockery
in good earnest,
“ you are not what appear to be,
learn from me to be frank and free.”