One morning I saw a man
One morning I saw a man
who looked at me
with red eyes
and his beard,
was unshaven and grew
rough and untamed.
The man looked familiar
and in the look in his eyes,
was something that hit
into my very soul.
Years was etched into his face
and it told its own story
and I almost did not recognise him,
but the mirror showed my own face.
poem by Gert Strydom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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