Mirrors In the looking glass, light dances quite free. Reflecting images of faces fair. Can mirrors truth, reflecting glass, catch me? Or is it just my features I see there? How much soul can one see in reflection? How much good or ill can in it be seen? What does one see, flaws or plain perfection? Can one see passion's red, or envy's green? Light can blind one's eyes to what is inside. Appearance too often is the standard. When soul's too shallow, behind looks we hide. Too often I wonder it's not absurd. Mirrors in truth, are not out to deceive They just show us what we need to believe.