A room of mirrors, endless and bright,
Where reflections swirl in shadow and light.
Footsteps echo in every direction,
Caught in a dance, a boundless reflection.

Are they standing on ceilings, defying the ground?
Or sprawled across walls, skyward-bound?
Suspended high, a hundred floors tall,
Looking down on Manhattan, a shimmering sprawl.

The mirrors are flawless, gleaming and clear,
Casting scenes that echo and veer—
Light ricochets, bending space,
Infinite images, face after face.

What a spectacle, what a sight—
A room of mirrors, dazzling with light.