And it's all done with mirrors,
from the beginning to the end,
Reflections and refracted light,
on window glasses bend.

And it's all done with mirrors,
like a cloud across the sun.
Sealing in the truth of things,
like shadows on the run.
Can you count refractions,
lightning flashes, as they pass?
Can you see the secrets,
kept beneath the window glass?
Lines and coded messages,
have come to tell the eye,
That carousels and ponies,
are the truth and not the lie.

Masks, and plays, and metaphors,
are questions unto me
And mirrors are the answers
to the uncertainty I see.
And it's all done with mirrors,
like crayons to the eye
But, does the colored picture
tell the truth,
or does it lie?
For you never see the author,
only his intent
And I'm a brooding character,
I Question that intent.

May 12, 1971
By Linda A. Copp ©