Days when a tired, aging woman fills the looking glass,
warning not to give in, give up, give way.
Today she's kept her distance. The woman grinning
morning salutations is loved, hopeful.
Mischief plays with her eyes, memories she holds
so dear they only show at the corners of her mouth.
Young enough to make mistakes at every turn,
old enough to know that that's to be expected.
Equipped, empowered, entranced by the
possibilities of the day ahead, she hesitates
to clean the mirror lest that stranger
take it as an invitation to return.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012
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