The man in the mirror sees many things.
Each and everyone will gossip about him.
Most will laugh.
And duos of ladies murmur in giggles
behind his back.
Groups flock to his house
where he is to die someday.
Peering through the tiny window,
they wonder what life would be like
without him.
The vagabonds in tux's will still mock him,
even in death.
The day has become late and the crowd is thinning
at this man's bash.
He is another year older today,
another year wiser,
and the draining of youth shows on the tips of his eyes.
"All my life is and will ever be
black and white.
All my life was and became
shades of gray,"
he whispers,
breaking away from the conversations.
"I feel as if everything has just begun,
and already they are cleaning up the party..."
Few guests remain to honor his born day.
Looking now, he sees himself reflected in a mirror –
barely a part of the scene he observes.
"I am no longer the center of my vision.
I've faded to the left
and soon will fade completely
into bursts of light."
A man rushes past.
Soft voices swirl about the air
as the women talk
and the groups pry.
"Is this all that is left of me?"
A man's reflection shows many things.
