You called me your mirror,
that one day, in the morning.
I wondered if you thought
I'm your image, all throughout.
"No!", you'd say, seemingly
reading my mind as always.
"You help me reflect."
In retrospect, you have been
my mirror too; rear-view.
Helping me reflect,
in hindsight, with insight.
Prodding me to look back
every once in a while,
and letting me see
all the miles I've covered.
And you know what they say,
about rear-view mirrors.
"Objects in the mirror
are closer than they appear"
Isn't that what you
made me realise?
That I'm closer to me
than what it seemed?
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