The Looking Glass


How deceitful. My reflection.
My skin, the smooth complexion.
Youth is written on my heart.
One place it can’t depart.

Seasons change, my heart does not.
Breaking. Healing. Staying caught,
In the spirit of the young,
All the passions I have sung.

Years write lines across my face,
Robbing me of seemless grace.
How cold is my reflection.
These tears staining my complexion.

There is more to life than age.
More that’s written on the page.
See past this calm complexion,
To my heart and my reflections.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s