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What an adventure
A mirror must be
For an old vampire,

A sort of window
To sit near, watching
For something to show.

Magic, in that case,
Wouldn’t be the lack
Of a reflection

But the hope of one,
Of apparition
Like a window ghost

Flickering briefly—
There you are, old self,
Dead all these decades,

Don’t go! But the glass
Briefly outlining
Shadows shimmering

Falls clear again, and
There’s just the background,
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