I get a glimpse in a shard of glass
a corner of sight as I walk past
hello, girl, I can see
how someone might be attracted to you.
I see a shadow on a glassy lake
a dull reflection in a clipper's wake
mercy, Mary, why do you try
to hang in the sky when you're a pheasant.
watching eyes forever seen
in diverse shades from kind to mean
rubbish, are mirrors to me
when no one else sees what I do.