Now
you
see
her.
(She will always be
your dream, never
your memory.)
Her face opens
like the rising sun.
Her eyes are
the shining emeralds
of a transcendent Buddha.
Her lips are as pure
and foolproof as those
of a naked nun.
(She will always be
your dream, never
your memory.)
Now
you
don't.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shivering-mirrors/
