The Gilded Mirror

I sat watching,

quietly,

almost holding my breath

as the grey sledge hammer

swung deftly

towards the gilded mirror.

How the great hammer shown

magnificent,

it’s reflection framed

as it was,

in that great, gold frame,

scrolls dazzling my eyes

as the light bantered playfully,

the glass like a lake,

still and waiting.

The sound so shrill,

as it erupted,

the smashing sang like ripples,

the tinkling shards tiny notes

in a sea that has been blinded,

except for the mosaic,

tiny bits of vision,

that lay at your feet,

remnants of itself.

Anna

Anna,

how I love the way

your name feels in my mouth,

what can I tell you,

but that the memory of you,

is as if from a day long forgotten,

though perhaps you live in my future,

like a dream.

And when I look at you,

my breath is stolen,

as if your beauty

abides death herself,

for you ,

my dear Anna,

are the embodiment

of a time,

stolen from my nubile fingers,

a fire that burns

like a star,

far away in the midnight sky,

yet my body

sings the song

of that heat,

every time our eyes alight,

your mouth ignites a flame,

with your every smile.

My Anna,

though I lost you

before we ever met,

perhaps now that I’ve found you,

our hearts will unite,

and at last,

we will never

forget.