With chilblains on his fingers and an icicle nose

John McGrath thought of those

Who were seemingly worse off than he

Living on the streets with no company

The beggars with nowhere to turn

And lonely people who always yearned

For a friend or a helping hand

A kind face willing to reprimand

John McGrath was not so poor

Yet of himself he was unsure;

He loathed the reflection gazing at him

With cutting cheekbones and pointy chin

He was a creature, what had he become?

Something drastic had to be done.


© Sophie Bowns 2011-2016



4 thoughts on “The Repulsive Reflection

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