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Who is she really?
November 17, 2011
A foggy glass box
Sits behind my eyes
Swirling mist conceals
my soul
Slip your nail under
the latch; prod and pry
Roses flame my cheeks
Smile
But the latch wouldn't
Break for you, I hope
It still won't open
even
for me
........................................
The lid floats open
A sliver too small
To see past the mist
Strain your eyes to see
You want simple, blue
Glinting sapphires?
Strain my eyes inward
To see what I want:
Unique, streaked opal
We want
Stones, Jewels
Do we
Realize
It may be
neither?
© Melissa W., Fayetteville, GA
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