reflection of beauty

she stood there looking at herself

the reflection of Michelangelo curves soft silken skin
both arms hang naturally, fingers in tact,
two shapely legs that would entice

she walks closer to the mirror and observes her long
sinuous now gray white hair still full and rich
eye lashes long, flutter seductively
translucent azure eyes look deep into her heart

a smile evinces with lips that make still air

swirl and turn into hurricane winds
then tilts her head to see that pretty lady
across in the reflection doing the same

her fingers flick the light on and off   

her silhouette moves about surreal
she leaves the light off, opens the blind
the suns fingers titillate the contour
of her body casting her shadow against the wall

she recalls of lovers that came before

telling her she wasn’t pretty enough or too fat
a father demanding her to wear something less tight
cover her curves because she looks like a slut

she’d sit in the corner at night and cry

not liking herself, thinking others felt the same
gave up on school not wanting to be seen
she'd sit in a dark corner and read and read 

she'd picture her life, vicariously, in the
characters of these books of lovers

who loved them and fathers did too

she'd then stand in front of the mirror
wondering who is that beautiful woman in there

she realized when she tilted her head

she was me and I was her

beautiful skin, lovely hair and eyes
with curves that the greatest of artists
would paint and so she left the blinds open