Ageing Dementia Sufferer

I stare at my reflection.
The hand held mirror. The ever loyal.
He who has become more my confidante as time has passed. 
He who has survived the storms of life, gains and losses.
Remains ever faithful only with a weaker outline.

I examine those twinkle light eyes that saw bright skies yesterday. 
The eyes are still vibrant but they are no longer latent in the long day and night. 

I still see the buds however it seems that the twinkle has slower become a soft glimmer. 
A prettier one nevertheless. 

I still see the porcelain skin that was the envy of many a eye. 
I see that the dermis has developed a even more a flawless perfection over time that rarely happens. 
I must be natures lucky one. 

I see the impishness, the childlike inner , I see me. 
I see the mirror has its own moods as at times I see. 
At other times I don't see more than a blur.

Around me I remain lone. With of course my reflected desire.
 I don't see my childhood. I don't see my companions. I don't see my soul mate love. 
Did I dream them or are they still yet to arrive? 

Has time really passed or is my soul caught in the throes of the ticking of the clock?
Is my mirror my souls best friend or the stark truth of my physical being ?

Is this the reflection of my memories or the passings of my soul?

Whatever it may be. My mirror is my ever faithful.
Others have deserted me or possibly never arrived. 
My mirror is my ever faithful. My mirror continues to comfort me.

Others have deserted me or possibly never arrived. 
My mirror is my ever faithful. My mirror continues to comfort me.