Tell Me
Turned away, my lover murmurred,
I actually think that others often see us
more clearly than we see ourselves.
Into her neck I agreed.
How can any of us do otherwise?
A story is a re-telling, every word a reflection
of something other. Little good it did Narcissus
to stare and stare. And stare.
My lifetime, I wonder, and have wondered
how it shall end. Holding I am lovely!
to a mirror.
!ylevol ma I
Better that someone else should see this.
And tell me.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2009
This is lovely.
ReplyDelete.ylevol si sihT
Yet another lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteAnd a mirrored image? It can never capture our true essence.
Thank you for reading my stuff and appreciating my musings.
ReplyDelete-- Cip