Image
While I hung
Her favorite Christmas towels
On the towel rack,
She hovered
Behind me
Over my left shoulder
Straightening her wind-blown hair.
In the bathroom mirrow
I looked up into the mirrow.
I remembered–she died last year.
3 thoughts on "Image"
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Yes. Great pace and the end hits just right.
I feel this.
Wow! “I looked up into the mirror” and–and then she’s there only in spirit! Wonderful poem.