#PoetryFriday - Mirror Image.

The image in the mirror taunted him,
judged him,
focused on him.
He turned away.
Sideways, he saw a bulging stomach,
where, in the dim past,
a maiden’s gaze looked longingly.

His tired face
sagged in all the wrong places.
His once straight shoulders were bent
from years of striving,
pushing,
climbing the business tree.

He stared at the image,
and looked deep into the eyes.
They were supposed to be a window,
through which he could see a spirit
and a soul.
He only saw pain.
By definition,
the essence would be unseen.

Would his years betray him?
Would the early morning staggering,
and the gaze into the mirror,
slow his steady pace
to knowing himself?

By the time he knew,
would it be too late for his body
to answer the call?