CONVERSATION WITH MIRROR by Ann WoodEvery day we look at you,
and we are known to the pain
sometimes with fury,
seldom with love
but we have no secrets from each other
Are you the mercenary my vision?
Or my reflection on mine
Witness of tears and short
a vent of every my new sorrow.
You see every little detail
of my aging and dotted wrinkles
and you feel the worries hidden
in my tired of fake people
And you think you know
to their most intimate depths,
when I look at you, you already know,
and my pain and my dreams.
Poetry by Ann Wood
Read 260 times
Written on 2019-07-04 at 01:50
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