Monday, December 29, 2008

Tell Me

Tell Me

Turned away, my lover murmured,

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. 2008

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