This is the first serious poem I wrote about Parkinson’s Disease.

The Man, the Mirror and the Mask.

The man in the mirror stares back at me

Eyes full of pain and self-pity

Face as tight and taut as a mask

Oh such effort, even the smallest task

Muscles so heavy with aches and pain

So much effort, so little gain

The man in the mirror stares back at me

Eyes once full of wonder now just apathy

Inside my head that silent scream

Of the little child in a frightening dream

In the dark of the night in a troubled bed

We feed our minds with fear and dread

The man in the mirror stares back at me

Eyes still twinkle full of light and glee

That little child’s hopes and dreams still so bright

From deep within a little spark of light

Awakens the adult from its slumber and sleep

And reminds us not to weep

For the things we’ve lost and left behind

A gentle reminder to be gentle and kind

To that little child who still lives inside

And to the adult we thought had died

The man in the mirror smiles back at me

Eyes full of life and love for me