Distorted

My frequent visitor greets me.
Sometimes I know when she is coming
Other times it is a spontaneous arrival;
Either way, I eagerly wait.
Often my stationary existence is spent
Reflecting on the opposite wall;
A hypnotic mix or black, white, and grey
Like thousands of marbles have splattered
And claimed their space of permanence,
Only tarnished by the flitting shadows
That enter through the adjacent window.
But my visitor
Is hypnotic in a greater sense
Unsoiled and alluring to every sense,
She offers a glorious landscape –
Inquisitive honeyed eyes
Mattered tresses with intricate knots
Extra flesh padded out in the centre
Limbs with limitless energy –
She possesses copious constancy.
But while looking at me
Her face distorts
Into an unyielding sadness
And, as always, she leaves quickly
More dejected than before.
If only she could see what I see.


Published in The Gentian https://thegentian.files.wordpress.com/2020/10/the-gentian-issue-7-reflections.pdf