A poem should be soundless as the flight of birds...A poem should be equal to not true....A poem should not mean but be.


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Mirror, Mirror
Tell me what you see in me?
My magical Mirror
Looks at me, and says,
“You are the other side of me”
I looked at the other me
Different, very different
I looked at my photo
Lying beside the mirror
Reflected on my magical mirror
It looked the same but I looked different
“Why was it? What was it?”
My magical mirror answered
My reflection spoke for it
“You seem to have put a mask
The person  behind  the mask
Is the real  you”.
My mirror reflected the true me
The lost and forgotten me
Mirror, mirror
“Thank you a lot
For reintroducing me
To the real true only me”.


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Dinita Rai
J P Sharma Road