Framed in my mirror of flawless perfection
fatuous illusions play silent ballet.
Visions of naiads in myriad trajection
dance in their rhythmic phantom display.
Drifting in impasse, dreaming of lovers,
wingflights of fancy take nest in my bed.
Languishing eyes form reflective maneuvers
with vision of self circumspect in my head.
Suddenly images morph in a clever
blending of faces - reflection of two -
convergent paths spanning never and ever
disperse the mirage - revealing the truth.
Pristine and pure your likeness shines through.
Immured in reflection I look and find you.
Elizabeth Lock Scarborough