In front of me standing, perfectly still

A full length figure, a copy, the same

Features and stance, no motion (until

I do the same) like a picture in frame.

I raise my hand, he reaches for me -

A trapped doppelganger, a double ghost.

As I touch his hand, cold ivory,

I think; 'perchance I am trapped and he the host'.

He who is I, in the room beyond.

When not at the glass does he still

Live on, or exist only in my mind, a mental bond

That when not in sight conscience does kill?