Through the Looking Glass

A penny for your thoughts, she seems to ask
Of her reflection in the looking-glass.
I could care less who's fairest of them all;
Of how this joyless fame has come to pass.
I care for what I missed, or gave away,
Yet never thought that I was at a loss
For selling what I never knew was gold,
And buying what I now know to be dross.


A moment of your time! her image pleads,
Her wide eyes bright with innocent distress,
Have we not shared each other's lives? So please,
Remain a while, and tell me why you left;
For all I am was animated by
The fire of your joy, the way you laughed,
Your love of life burned bright in both our eyes -
How could you turn your back on me at last?


A whisper from your heart, is her response,
Her eyes across the shadow-years hold fast,
Were you not there when feeling fell away?
Through gilded bars our song flew blithely past,
Yet adoration caged us, day-by-day;
The love, the joy that we did freely share,
Could little hold their hungry hearts at bay;
Turned my back? 'Twas you I hoped to spare.


Then spare me sister, please, she softly begs,
And reaches toward the hand beyond the glass.
Come hold me in your dreaming once again,
And shed your vain regrets about the past.
For amber thoughts can never truly shield
The fire and the motion of your soul;
A flame encased in amber can but yield
The dark detritus of a lifeless coal.


She lifts her hand and lets her fingers fall
Upon the cool, impenetrable depth;
They lightly fog the surface as they touch,
An evanescent nimbus where they rest.
The image in her mirror briefly swims,
Then spills in shining trails that wetly pass
Across the cheeks, and down along the chin
Of her reflection in the looking-glass.

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