Living On Three Continents: Brief Encounter
Who is that, reflected in the mirror-lined passage leading into the shopping mall? Read Susan Siddeley's brisk poem, and discover the unwelcomed truth.
There’s a certain place one likes to shop.
The prices are good and there’s parking on top.
The stores inside are varied and modern.
Outside vendors, when it rains, get sodden.
These pavement folk have no permit to sell.
If a policeman comes, they run like hell.
Their wares are homemade, arty and cheap,
for stockings at Christmas -- not really to keep.
Inside it’s cool and the hallways are polished.
Outside it’s hot and the pavement’s demolished.
Inside the shops are well-dressed and inviting.
Outside the scene’s not quite so exciting.
“What’s this,” you say, “to do with a meeting?”
It happened like this, though the sighting was fleeting.
To get into this place, this shopper’s delight,
you enter a mirror-lined passage of light!
From floor to ceiling reflected in there
are thousands of people having a stare.
Ducking one day through this numerous throng,
I was startled to see someone scuttling along.
Old, wrinkled and grey, she came hurrying near.
“Mother!” I gasped, “What are you doing here?”
A quick double-take showed the spectre in front
sported red hair; so my mother it wont.
But if it wasn’t her, then who could it be?
Good God. It’s the mirrors! That person is Me!
The tense face, the frown, the bent little form…
“But I’m not like that!” I thought with alarm.
I rarely go now to that place of glass.
Once meeting the future was quite enough.
If I want to see more of the age that’s to come,
I can always go Home and visit my Mum.
