Poetry

By

Ian Fletcher

Mirror

Beauty is only skin deep it is claimed

but I am unable to see it that way

for look how age has ravaged my face,

creases and wrinkles forming the lines

of a front page no one wants to read.

Though what once attracted now repels,

as if I am the victim of some evil spell,

you look at a mirror that seems to say

such as I am so shall you be one day.

Ian Fletcher

Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He lives in Taiwan with his wife, two daughters and cat. He teaches English in a high school. He has had poems and short stories published in The Ekphrastic Review, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.