Before the shadowed mirror
She stood, backlit in soft glow
From a single lamp on the left,
The dancing flame softening
The lines of a sleepless,
Merry night – For it had been indeed!
She stood, caught in the dregs
Of midnight magic fading,
Holding proudly, the visage
Of a Roman empress in colour
And style, but in dress more humble,
Wrapped in the softened glow of the everyday.
She fancied she saw held,
In the silver disk before her,
Caught as she was betwixt,
Divine and mundane,
That then she was more beautiful
Belonging to a Raphaelite painting.
Too delicate, she felt herself,
For harsh reality’s harsh sunlight.
She shied away, covered the glass,
Such fancies fade away with time.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away… 