Friday, July 13, 2012

Mirrors


The mirror frightens me.
Images change, distort, disappear.
They had promised me 
A bunch of red ribbons
To tie our lives into a posy.

And how many afternoons did we stand,
Before the glass, entwining hands,
and see our image crystal clear,
a photograph as it were,
an eternal picture of our love.

Like a broken picture frame,
torn shreds of old snaps,
the shades in the mirror convulse
into terrifying spectres of long ago faces,
which have come and gone and come and gone.
And come yet again and gone...forever.
I look with beaded eyes and behold
another reflected memory.

The real face, the enfolding arms,
turn me cold when I behold
our picture framed yet again in glass
Is it just another face that comes and goes,
or will it stay and shine, like a star,
beside mine? Will it ever be
an unbroken image in an unbroken frame?
Will it remain the same?

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