The Ring and The Mirror of Strangers

The poem reflects the trauma of separation with both parties struggling.

Night, your hand is heavy

Yet at your mercy, I had hoped for quiet covers

Thick dark blanket of pains, where light cowers

Then roll away the tombstone, 

Conjured with the mask of sweet fantasy.

Exiled sleep, barred and secret

O memories so perfect, so fleet

Not so sure now in the colors of this emptiness

If truly ol' Sycamore tree was our fate

Then our sweetest vows was a pickle late

I know the heart

Has journey far from present

Banished love clothed in bouquet

I still wear your gold ring in the secret

And hide my steps as I walk our old street

As long as your broad masculine back I sight

Where these roads lead to, I care not

For once I caught you glanced my way

You spilled your drink when I looked your way

With windmill of ego fanning our way

Mirror, mirror on the wall

I know I am not the prettiest of them all

For what am I if I loose my soul?

Strangers we are in Bethsaida's pool

Gold ring I put, gold ring I pull.

Author's Note

Sleep is as death, but separation is death itself. I honor my bestie for her strength in this trying times.

Reviews

[Marie]

The struggle of the separation of two intertwined souls is very finely penned and depicted in this poignant write. Great use of metaphor. I like the layout of the poem too. The mystery of the title of the poem drew me in to read it. Great write! Thank you for sharing, dear poet...

[Mirror]

I deeply appreciate it, sir!

[Mirror]

It is a name....anyone can bear.....

[Marie]

Most welcome always... I am not poet, I am poetess, so I am not sir...

[Marie]

Sorry to disagree with you, dear poet. Marie is a strictly feminine name...

[Mirror]

Ohhhhhh! I get it. Deepest apologises ma'am!!!!!!

I thought your referred to "poet or poetess" as a name not Marie! Goodness me, Marie is pure feminine of course!

My bad! Pinching my ears.....

[Marie]

Laughing! NO apologies necessary, dear poet and thank you for the smile...

[Arundass TP]

Nicely written poem, sadness, poem is full of emotions.

[emmajoygreen]

Beautifully sad words, heart on your sleeve, golden and precious, dear friend.

'I still wear your gold ring in the secret
And hide my steps as I walk our old street'

That is love.

[Mirror]

Sure, Emma. Why love hurt is a wonder. A wonder. A wonder. Hmm.

[emmajoygreen]

It can only be one or the other.. the in between is a thesaurus of strange words, all different, wayward and out of tune .Take care, please. You will, yes?

[Mirror]

Yes, Emma, I will.....