The Mirror of Tomorrow

I gazed into the mirror of tomorrow And saw my older face. He looked at me with quiet eyes And a furrowed brow: A look I couldn't quite place. He is a different man now; Unlike I, he is strong and he is wise. Overtaken by pride, I smiled. He looked at me a while, then sighed, And returned a different smile. His face softened, but his eyes Pierced through Mine — I remember how my father Recounted the days he would lose his temper A decade earlier And his eyes were quiet, but the scars still appeared In his piercing gaze — And I realized my reflection Wore a face of shame. I reached out and touched the glass; He did the same. We shared a pulse through our fingertips. I had so much to say To tell, and to ask Universes of words to express. They all got stuck in my throat And I could barely muster a single croak: “I'm sorry.” I felt the pulse in his fingers rise, then slow. His eyes softened slightly He replied: “It's okay.”