Author Elizabeth Fleming In the mirror On the wall, There's a face I always see; Round and pink, And rather small, Looking back again At me. It is very Rude to stare, But she never Thinks of that, For her eyes are Always there; What can she be Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 3.9 (63 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments