By Mirabeau
Date: 8 December 2000
Mirror Mirror
Strange how it works---
with reflections.
I look in your eyes
and see beauty that was never my portion
these simple features
made handsome by the touch of your love.
You look in your own mirror
and search for the soul
that I have come to love so completely,
doubting not me,
doubting not my regard,
but wondering still how I possibly could.
You tell me that I don't need to repeat
that you are keeper of my heart,
that in you my soul has found it's home,
that your kiss is food to my hungry spirit,
and your touch its shelter from all harm.
But we do not see---either or us
what the other holds dear or precious.
I look in the mirror and see features,
not so young anymore...
eyes haunted by the losses of yesterday
and this brand new fear
that tastes of sour copper on my tongue.
You said you love me too much---
and one cold finger touched my heart.
I ask that sad eyed woman in the mirror
how long it will be
before something like too much
takes your heart from me.
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