I glance at the mirror
on the way to the next chore.
Is that a stranger?
Forehead furrowed,
focussed face, grim,
a burdened Atlas.
Then I catch
the twinkle in the eye
the smile lurking at
the corner of the mouth.
As if caught out in the game.
A catch-me-if-you-can
grinning gamine
hiding behind a tired facade
breaks through.
A cheeky, intrepid sun.
I wonder then,
about my outward self,
the one that others see
that bears little likeness
to the inner me.
Montages that dwell,
and morph and grow
in others’ minds.
So varied, so unalike
as though in each of them
dwells a different me.
~~~
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