Has the time arrived? Is it here? br Must I at last believe the mirror? br Must I accept, must I confront my fear br that my reflection is no ghastly error? br Gazing from the cave where my soul clings br I see past shadowy nose the lizard folds br that used to be my burnished satin skin – br I can’t deny that I am getting old. br br I hardly need a mirror made of glass br to tell me the reality, and why br I don’t meet ardent glances as I pass br and I’m invisible to passers-by. br But let the passers-by keep passing by – br my beauty is created in my lover’s eye.