Hers was the face
in the mirror
that hung
in the dusty hall,
with its broken frame
and glass, obscured
by rusting patches
of disregard.
It was a sad reflection
of neglect.
For too long,
no warming breath
had polished
the dull glass
to a smile.
And she was the child
in the photograph,
with a halo of smiles;
sitting on a sunbeam
and kicking her legs
while she hummed
soft tunes.
A happy child
blowing bubbles
and throwing kisses
across the hall
and for a moment,
one precious moment,
the mirror sparkled.