My Reflection

I don’t think my reflection knows Where I goes, When I goes It waits It woes It stands It stows And when I return it’s happy to see The me that’s reflected Is that me that was me. Still it must be very hard To be a reflection To stand in direction To have specific perception And yet to give a perfect account Of the you in front of the mount To break the good news, and the bad Must be paneful to the mirrors you have.