Looking Glass
On opposite glass I see her walking
silently past my life; a graceful ghost
floating slowly as if searching, wanting,
haunting this dilapidated soul.
Her face is golden and her skin
inviting to palms moist with tears.
Lifeless veils cover her pleading eyes
and guard closely that perilous path.
Suddenly, she turns her face toward me
glancing, her mouth opening so slightly,
as if a lover had whispered her name
or stroked those ebony strands.
I stand frozen, immobilized as her silhouette
burns against my unrelenting desire.
My mind races for one brazen act in life
as she smiles softly at her timely reflection.
