Through the Looking Glass

Lost my looks
some time ago, at least
that’s how it feels,
despite appeals of protest
from the man in my life.

Gone more grey, recently
from the strife of just being alive.

Sure, I scrub up well,
and maybe only I can tell
my hair is thinning
and a thickness is winning
at the middle.

I’m not exactly an old biddy yet,
but there’s no surprise in eyes anymore
when I reveal my age.

I look in the bathroom mirror
and wonder when it happened?
There must have been a solitary day
where I crossed that line
between youth and … anyway,

don’t know where I’m going with this,
and then I think,
nobody’s waiting for it—there’s no deadline,
all these changes will still be here
to write about tomorrow …
unless I’m not.

*wink, wink

Kathleen Mortensen © 2017

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Theme Thursday: “mirror”






Cover The Mirrors (A Rondeau)

Cover the mirrors; she has died,
Despite the doctors having tried;
They bled her once and twice again;
But all for naught; she left us when,

Beyond the glass, where once she vied
To conquer death; she thought she spied
The shadows looming—we denied,
The whispering low, of knowing men.
                                         Cover the mirrors.                 

The clocks are stopped, their workings tied,
The doors are locked; the robin’s cried,
I’ve bowed my head and stilled my pen,
To bid adieu— to say, “Amen”,
To shape and soul, no more allied.
                                             Cover the mirrors.

Kat Mortensen©2010  Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape
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One Single Impression: What’s It Like?

lipstick Click picture for source.

Sex Ed


Ooh, yeah!

Hey, remember that time

we found that stack

of Playgirl mags

all wet and raggy

in the middle of the wood?

Slick, but wrinkly,

sun-kissed bods,

appendages…

dangling.

Woowee!

Juice-inducing stuff.

And then

there was that blue movie

(when I stayed the night)

With the slattern

in the sleek car

her silk scarf

caressing her tresses

Slipping out of

her dress

letting it slide

to the floor.

What they were up to

on the bed

went over my head

but it was so cool

the way she wrote

in lipstick

on the mirror.

Kathleen Mortensen©2009 Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape