Girl in the mirror

Girl in the mirror
is a girl
who isn’t there
not really
she’s imaginary
the waking hours
we share
she knows, who she is
she is real
but not with me
not here in my mirror
that’s the reality

she comes and goes
I do suppose
in solace, I can see
her at the window
in my mind
mirrored classically
creative in earth magic
in aromatic oils
in casting
everlasting
the soul forever
toils

wrapped up in
purple torments
and vast deserts of sand
where rainbows
and where crystals
are very often panned
as Glastonbury, beckons
and the wisest, of seers
lay their hands upon her
and wipe away her tears

she dances in the garden
she dances in her room
the music from deep in her soul
brings thoughts perhaps
of whom?
inner depths of wonderment
that surface late at night
when wolves and owls
communicate
in the golden light

a captivating presence
that illustrates the joy
that motivates the tortoise
to gravitate
his ploy
to concentrate
and to demonstrate
his feeling in a way
to appreciate
and just to state
that he hopes she’s there
to stay’

locked up
in the realms of all that’s
natural calm and warm
a goddess in the mirror
in her spirit form
and everything about her
is abundantly so pure
mirrored by the passion
that she must surely
ration
for otherwise
her lure becomes the cure