'Reflections of Us' by Karen Walker

 

Everywhere on the beach are tiny mirrors, the summer sands of time.    

In them, we are young and swirly. How do we look? we ask the boys, knowing, of course, we look swirly and summery.

But an old man is here, too. His time should be done. His bald head, glassy eyes bounce the sun's rays back before they can reach the mirrors, us.

When one smarty boy says the beach is not made of mirrors — Silly girls, quartz particles are refracting sunlight — we know who'll end him.

If you don't, we tell Smarty Boy, your time will never come.