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The joy of self-discovery
Swirling, ever onwards, upwards.
Soaring outwards, flying free.
Floating on the breeze, a spark, an ember.
Crying out in gladness "This is me"
"THIS is me".
This poem was written to be part of the "periwinkle/swirl" Colours Projects. View the project in the Colours Gallery.
Who is she
Streaked with grey she combs her silver mane.
She stares at me, confused by the ravages of time.
The marks of her life stamped into her countenance.
Each sorrow, each pain carved in the landscape of her face.
Disbelieving, not recognising who she sees, a stranger.
Looking closer I find deep in her eyes,
The girl gazing out at me, youth timeless and enduring.
Imprisoned in the ageing shell.
Slowly light dawns, she smiles with recognition.
This stranger in the mirror.
