Mirror

There's a mirror in my pocket.
It sets there all day
Reflecting to itself.
Sometimes it gets taken out,
The cover is opened,
And joy of joys!
It sees the world!

An eye, a nose,
A glimpse of sky or tree,
A flash of passing bus,
Even a whole face
Or a distant ugly building.

Enraptured, the mirror has
Slowly pieced together
A whole universe
In its mind
From the tiny snapshots
Gathered over years.

I realise that the more
I uncover that little mirror,
The deeper will be its understanding.
I'm not sure if it's ever seen
The moon, or the
Hat I hardly ever wear.
To gaze at myself then
Is not vanity but kindness.