The still pond shivers
From the touch of the wind.
The water hums, begs, moans,
“Come again, come again, come again.”
The wind howls with laughter
And makes no promises.
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Because It Is True
I look in the mirror,
And even though I am at the age
Where pretty is fighting with ruin,
I say for the first time,
“Hey You, Beautiful Girl,
Better than ever.”Because it is true.
Because it is true that
My roar is quieter but steady.
My faith is held in
An open mind of certainty.
And, because it is true, that
My heart quivers bravely
As grace and tragedy
Hold each of my hands,
And teaches me to dance.
My Name Is Not Mavis 