©The Reflection

I stare at her reflection in the window:

She sits in the brightly painted sun-lit solarium
Alone - always alone
A woman whose fate has been finalized
Around her, an aura of impending death
Unapproachable...to even herself
Dispirited
Desperate
Expiring
I stare at her reflection and see me...

Her eyes are hollowed and blank
In another world
She had eyes that men couldn't forget
Those eyes were mine

Her fingers are thin and crooked
The joints twisted and deformed
She use to play the piano
Those fingers were mine

Her hair is wiry and thin
Scalp showing through
She had thick hair like lamb's wool
That hair was mine

Her face is distorted and etched
Lines telling a story on a loose leather page
She was 1949 Homecoming Queen
That face was mine

Her teeth are chipped and yellow
Random, with bleeding gums
Her smile once lit up any room
Those teeth were mine

Her feet are twisted and turned in
Stiff - unable to balance
She was a prima ballerina...once
Those feet were mine

Her voice is old and meager
She speaks rarely now
She was head of her church choir
That voice was mine

Her body is weak and shriveled
Clothes hang three sizes too big
Her body was slender and strong
That body was mine

I stare at her - She stares at me
We relive these reflections...
Silently staring...