The visage in the quick silver stream

Of time is never twice the same.

Step in again and see

How different your hair is,

How much your smile has changed.

Your pale skin has blushed,

Or tanned, or paler still.

Your weight has changed,

Your muscle tone,

The roughness of your whiskers gone,

And been replaced by silky down

Of eider duck or lily smooth

As water nymph kisses,

Or gruff again as ogre’s teeth.

But Narcissisus in the mirror,

Can only ever hear dear Echo as she speaks,

Only because her lonely words

Are his.

Can any of us ever really hear a new thought,

A new idea,

Unless we’ve already thought of it ourselves?

-jenn