Curiosa

The stranger in the mirror wears my clothes,
although they’re tighter on her.
My diamond hangs round her neck.
She has different eyes:
Soft grey; a touch of storm.
Clear and deep;
Their murky film washed away.
She told me her name once,
and I laughed.
It didn’t fit anymore.
The sadness tapers off,
and the stranger
is stranger still.

Tres

Ghostly light forced through cloud,
trees awoken from their slumber;
A howl of pain across the sky;
grief for a falling world.

That silhouette of wood and leaves,
pushed around by wind on wood and leaves;
Regains balance as light fades;
That silhouette of sturdy grace.

Rain on ground and on glass,
Pebbles thrown at my window;
Come out, says the storm,
Come out and love me.