I look at the mirror,
Reach for a wet cloth,
I clean it with vigor;
It seems like a black spot.
I bent a little closer,
And strain my eyes to see,
I step back in horror;
It is not the mirror but me.
It is hitting me hard now,
To see a passing phase.
The charm that I once wore,
Has now been replaced.
I see fine lines on my face,
That makes me look demure;
From within I feel like a girl,
Wearing a mask that is mature.
About Me
- Cresilla Lobo
- I can write about disparate things, but when it comes to describing myself, I often fumble for words. To know me better, stay tuned to my space and share my world with me. As my thoughts unfold, the 'real me' will surface. Till then, I leave you with my favourite quote "Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so he loves also the bow that is stable."......Khalil Gibran.
