The Staff Mirror

Early in the morning 

As the clock ticks to seven;

The wait of the mirror 

Meets its end.

As men in blue

Seven, eleven or twenty

Que themselves 

To overlap their faces onto 

Faces that the mirror 

already holds.

The faces being replaced 

one after another

With a more handsome one

At least everyone

Bending close to it 

Almost sinking say

Handsome here is 'none'.

Prejudiced are they 

or is that the self love?

The mirror probably 

knows the difference.

It's a frantic race

When t

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he bell commands 

Their movement.

Unwilling to depart 

From the praises that 

The mirror casts;

The hansome moves 

With a handsome pride.

The average with poise

And grace and delight.

And then I

chance to gaze in the mirror 

Musing if the mirror 

Would adore me...

Gentle I am

And gentler the mirror 

seems to me. 

It smiles and says

Only you I found,

Ugly but sound 

In thought and quality.

Contrary,

All gazed to find 

The beauty that defined

Their outward identity.