Mirror Poem

My mirror is broken, or at least it seems to be,
for today I discovered an old man staring back at me.

The face I recognized,
But he had hair of gray, and there were wrinkles around the eyes.

I waved. I rubbed the mirror with my sleeve.
No matter what I tried, he simply wouldn't leave.

This can't be me, I thought. I am much more svelte.
Just look at the way the belly hangs over his belt!

I also thought it was very queer.
The hair stopped growing atop his head and was growing out of each ear!

Who was this imposter, and what is he doing there,
this man of age with silver in his hair?

Why is my mirror doing this to me?
Having this old man staring back at me?