a voice from the past
called last night
reminding me of a girl
I used to be
his voice was full of colors
the vivid painting of my past
streaming from some secret river of before
onto the cavas of today
I consider this girl
she seems a stranger
her ways are wild and unthinking
her smile is bright and unseeing
youth was a bright flash in the night
we flew hard and fast
we beat our wings to the heartbeat of life
our color high
we joined hands wet with the paint of our lives
our eyes eager
we joined paths to run together awhile
I consider her face
in the mirrored water of time
the ripples lap around her eyes
her image shifts and gathers back again
the sparkle in her eye could just be a reflection of the sun
but her voice calls clear through the years
echoing the same dreams and fears
changed only in perspective by time
her watery gaze is displaced by the wind
but this fragmented surface is a truer image
for ever she blew with the wind
wheverer the wind would blow
she is me and I am her
I cannot deny her colors paint my life
her reflection is mine but mine is not hers
for ever the waters shift and gather back again
Ah, so profoundly put. “her reflection is mine but mine is not hers” – so very true!
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Thank you!
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So beautiful and thoughtfully written!
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Thank you for you kind comment!
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Wow. This is beautiful. I love all the movement in it. Great writing
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