The Mirror of Truth

She was everything I ever wanted,

Petite, with a shock of hair,

A dimpled cheek, and a smile so sweet

And my favourite name of Claire.

I’d watched her grow to adulthood

And thought that I’d made my mark,

Until the day that my world turned grey

When I saw her walk in the park.

 

For she wasn’t alone by the cedars,

She wasn’t alone by the pool,

For Edward Eyre had his arm round her,

A fellow I’d known at school,

He wasn’t exactly a heartthrob,

His eyes were too big for his nose,

His hair was like a rats nest in there

And he seemed too small for his clothes.

 

I couldn’t believe I was seeing

Her laughing and smiling with him,

At school we’d called him the village fool

An idiot under his skin,

But here he was with my darling,

The vision was somehow grotesque,

As I recalled how he once had crawled

Under the teacher’s desk.

 

It wasn’t as if he could smell too good

With the egg stains over his chest,

A shirt would have been an improvement,

But he wore a dirty old vest.

What on God’s earth could she see in him

I made up my mind to see,

To question Claire, what went on in there,

And what did she think of me?

 

Her words were a revelation,

To her he was handsome and tall,

But she was barely just five foot three

And he only five foot small.

She spoke of his wit and his humour,

She said he made her heart full,

Then what of me, and she said, ‘Let’s see,

I think you’re remarkably dull.’

 

I said she should see a psychiatrist

Perhaps an optometrist too,

‘For what you see is a travesty

That nobody sees but you.’

She said they were going to be married,

To tie them together for life,

‘But once you see what the others see,

You’ll make him a terrible wife.’

 

I went to their wedding reception,

And hung in the passageway hall,

Got Claire to see his reflection

In the mirror that hung on the wall,

She blanched, and gasped at his image,

She’d not seen him like that before,

She’d seen but dreams, and she grimaced,

Threw up on the passageway floor.

 

There are those who see what they want to see

And Claire had been one of those,

They dress their dreams in a web it seems

Made up of the Emperor’s clothes.

We’ve been together a year or so

And try to hang on to our youth,

Whenever reality strikes a pose

We look in the mirror of truth.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[A Soap Mess Stories]

A well written story of beauty and deceit...it seems we see what we want to see...

[R Smith]

very true David, we see what we want to see and damn the rest, until that spark of light shines through and illumination occurs, still gotta feel sorry for this Edward though :)

[Marie]

Oh, but that was cruel. Perhaps Claire saw Edward as he really was, and the mirror reflected only his outward appearance. Truth is in the eyes of love...

[Justin Littlefield]

You know, your style is really unique. Always vivid and mellifluous, with a splash of humor that carries through and creates something fun to read. I can surmise from reading all I've read the past years that you are a very wise man.

Keep writing for us, I'll continue to read so long you do . You certainly have a fan.

[Valentine]

Fantastic write. For many today they just look on the outside, but not what is within the others heart. For her it was just the opposite. He may have made a good caring husband. Looks are not everything. Valentine