she gazed into the hand held mirror
but herself no longer could she see
she drew nearer and nearer
and still herself she could not perceive
for there, there in the silver speculum
deep inside her outreached palm was an image
so chilling she almost succumbed
staring back at her from his metal cage
piercing her heart from another time another place
exposing love long since tucked aside
in the dainty fingers of her past she held his face
the face of all held holy still and her thoughts collide
into the knowledge that she could no more part
with the vision of this, this reflection of her fate,
than could she divest herself of her beating heart
breaking as it was for her beloved soul mate
but herself no longer could she see
she drew nearer and nearer
and still herself she could not perceive
for there, there in the silver speculum
deep inside her outreached palm was an image
so chilling she almost succumbed
staring back at her from his metal cage
piercing her heart from another time another place
exposing love long since tucked aside
in the dainty fingers of her past she held his face
the face of all held holy still and her thoughts collide
into the knowledge that she could no more part
with the vision of this, this reflection of her fate,
than could she divest herself of her beating heart
breaking as it was for her beloved soul mate
4 comments:
Beautiful painting. Definitely my style. Another for the Tarot pack.The Empress representing the pagan goddess.
well, trevor - thank you! yes, she is very soft and sensual yet very open and regal - thanks for coming by - i was just over to see your newest wonders!
Whoever you are, whatever you are, wherever you are... dear Jenean, you write beautifully.
Whoever... your poems are the quintessential double entendre.
Ton poème n'a pas besoin de cette peinture, il a sa propre existence. Poème de malheurs, de peines, de contradiction...
But you know, love will always break your heart at the end.
Roger G.
tu dis toujours les plus belles choses, l'homme du froid, toujours - et vos paroles me laissent toujours humilié - mon coeur est rempli de bonheur, que vous trouverez mes petits poèmes avec faveur - je me sens parfois si égoïste par écrit les paroles, parce que j'aime pour les entendre et les sentir et goûter moi-même si beaucoup de --
au contraire, l'amour ne sera pas toujours casser mon cœur à la fin, cher monsieur, mais un amour qui rendra mon cœur à la fin - oui?
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