Through a forest I was walking

And stumbled on a stagnant pool

The water looked back at me, balking

Reflecting me, the gazing fool.

I pondered on this pond, you see,

And hated what returned, my vision.

The scars that showed, invisibly

Did rend my heart with pained precision.

"Was this really me?" I thought

Or was this person only clay?

Could this fragile shell be taught

To come across a different way?

So from the forest I retreated

Tempered mind and body too.

A little worn, though not defeated

I whittled worries down to few.

I returned in winters grasp

As snow and ice was rife and cold.

My vision I did try to clasp

And realised then that I'd grown old.

Time and effort it had taken

To release the pained reflection.

Though seeing it I wasn't shaken

My new and imperfect perfection.

Thank you for reading.

A thetalkingduck original

I'm looking to improve my presentation as I'm not used to writing blogs or on social media much in general, let me know how I can do so please 😊