The Face In The Mirror
As I wander past a mirror
I catch a glimpse of a face.
The image of a woman stares back at me
weary, weathered and almost defeated;
shoulders weighted by heavy burdens.
I feel a kinship with her,
for her troubles are my troubles,
and her face bears a striking resemblance to my own.
Yet, she looks nothing at all
like the face I see reflected in your eyes.
There, I see a vibrance,
that never penetrates the looking-glass;
a radiance, that lives deeper than the face.
There, I see the heart, and the soul,
of the woman you love,
and she is stronger than even she knows.
april 2003
