It seems so long since,

The magic mirror morphed me into,

Grandfather and schoolboy.

Ploughing the ground with horses,

And clutching a satchel for school,

Each of us glad,

We were not the other.



Though they sent me solice,

They suggested sadness also,

And I mourned the loss of both,

Fearing disappointment’s sting.



Though I now greet both,

With a smile,

I no longer need,

To be either.

I am the wise person now,

Yes I know that was the point.



I no longer define myself,

Through use of dark metaphor,

But play with my own monsters,

In the bright daylight still.


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