Freddy

Within the gusts and gale on a mid-winter eve
Sits a boy who's thoughts are as clear as those in a new pensieve.
And he wears, with an 'F' stitched on it, a tattered sweater,
As he writes his lost twin a letter;

"The mirror talks to me, Freddy.
It keeps me going sane and steady.
And although I know I don't see what I do,
I'm too weak to tell myself it's not you,
Freddy,

It IS you"