Monday, September 30, 2013

Mirrored

in his eyes I am found
he is my looking glass

fingers to softly caress
the outstretched image
laying before my eyes

in this dreamy reality
only a pinch can tell

the steady drumming
of his chest lures me
away to soothing rest

where does his body end
where does mine begin

suspended in bodies
not reflecting the
mirror's sweet serenade

our dance glides on
silvery glass memories

flight from the axe
released from bodice
in all these remedies

regrets fall as leaves
from October trees

divination has now
passed before the
windows of our soul

partial sight has given
way to beloved whole

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