Time has plied its harsh trade on you.
The paint on your golden frame is flaked and worn.
Your joints have separated,
Leaving gaps that threaten collapse.
The ornamental carvings that adorn you,
Have chipped and cracked through mishandling.
The pieces lost and swept away by innumerable hands.
You’ll never see them again.
Your surface once reflected light clearly.
The carefully prepared layers of metal and glass,
Have become mottled and dim.

My face is shown in yours darkly,
With only patches of bright clarity.
This is the most accurate reflection of me,
Only, it hasn’t yet been realized.
Time is the only distance,
Between your face and mine,
And in your present,
I can see my future.