A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
I look at my likeness
And wonder what its like on the other side.
What does that version of me see?
Does she see me on the outside, or the in?
I raise my finger to the glass
And she does the same.
We touch
And I am underwhelmed
But then
Am overcome by a sense
Of vertigo.
Everything that was once right is left
And what was once up is down.
Am I the originial,
Or the reflection?
Words Worth While 