THE OLD GERMAN MIRROR ©
I saw it in the old junk shop,
it was six feet tall, scarred and old.
Yet when I approached it,
why did I suddenly chill with cold.
I wandered into the warm sunshine,
and mused as I stood there to get warm.
I admired that tall oak framed mirror
knowing that silvered glass could not harm.
I asked the proprietor the price of it,
and would he deliver it to my home.
And for the modest sum of ten shillings,
he offered also to pack it in foam.
Two days later on arrival,
the mirror was my pride and joy.
I preened and pulled ugly faces,
like a little boy with a new toy.
I polished the wood in the sunshine,
and one or two smears from the glass.
Then moved it into my bedroom,
so I could ogle each time I would pass.
I mused, I might have it re-silvered,
since the corners were misty with age.
But when I approached a dealer,
he almost flew into a rage.
“This mirror was made in Germany,
when my great grandfather was not yet born.
This could be worth a small fortune.
Why do you treat it with such scorn?”
Outside the snow was softly falling,
I was cold and ready for my bed.
And I could just see my feet in the mirror,
then fell asleep as though dead.
The moon climbed the heavens so misty,
the clock ticked the hours away.
I dreamed of Church spires in Germany,
and of beautiful Frauen in May.
Then I dreamed I could hear sobbing,
and opened my eyes and peered.
At the beautiful girl in the mirror,
who was weeping and beckoning so weird.
I arose and walked through the glass panel,
and turned to latch the glass sneck.
That was when she rushed and grabbed me,
and sank her vampire fangs into my neck.
I wrestled to get free of her embrace
locked behind that panel of glass.
I was drifting into the fires of Hell,
but I was as cold as the Winter’s grass.
I saw the shadowy outline of a coffin,
then felt the sudden sway of a ship.
I pushed and screamed like a banshee,
but the only reply was a cut lip.
I must have dozed in the darkness,
for then I was out on the deck.
The ship was like a mad rocking horse,
raging waves were trying to wreck.
The wind shrieked in the rigging,
as the ship heeled over to port.
The moon watched this all impassively
as if it were some ritualistic sport.
Three men had washed overboard in the melee
and great white sharks moved in for the kill.
Then a great voice from the Heavens thundered,
and suddenly all was still.
I awoke to the hammering and pounding,
on my stout bedroom door.
They said they had heard someone screaming,
when I finally got up from the floor.
The policeman asked if I had cut myself shaving,
for he observed the blood on my neck.
That’s when I went to the back of the mirror,
I read what I had failed to check.
“Niemals Offenen” (Never Open)
Had been branded into the back,
where a tiny wood panel was missing
next to a spider’s nest near a crack,
and a King Cobra that was coiled and hissing.