My reflection is quiet:
It looks back at me silently with a confused grin.
I want it to say more to me, to tell me who I am.
It says nothing; it tells me nothing.

My reflection is fading:
It is wrinkled and it is weak, I do not like it.
I wonder if my reflection has a soul.
I cannot tell; it cannot tell me.

My reflection is no more:
I used to have a reflection to see, to admire.
It has left and no longer looks back at me.
I remember it; soon it will not remember me.