Staring into the old mirror & what did she see?
Asking the image she saw, “are you really me?”
The old face looked back, a blank canvas in grey,
And answered, “no my dear, it´s not you, no way”.
She got out her paints & she primed all the seams,
Painting over the ruts & grooves in magnolia cream,
She brushed light dusting on cheeks, of soft pink rose,
Then she high-lighted brow-bones, her chin & her nose.
Now for the eyes, which had disappeared in drab wife,
With stroke of mascara & liner, she gave them new life,
Sad down-turned lips, she lined & filled with wine red,
With her painting complete, she then tossed her head.
“This old mirror, together with life, conspires against me,
And that familiar face in the glass, is not at all who I´ll be,
With my magic brushes & palette, I´ll now face…
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