My Mirror

Poetry by Ted Boughter-Dornfeld Copyright © 2010

A bedrock, and a mountain stream.
A summit, and the soothing breeze.
A quiet forest where I can climb
Between dark clusters of trees,
And think about eternity –
This is what you mean to me.

What a puzzle, this infinity
That passes between souls.

Still, I remember.
I remember, because I choose to –
And as I eat sweet cake,
I think of you.

You, the dome above my thoughts,
The palace that quarters my soul,
Adorns my armor with robes.

I pray, every day that our roots
Won’t be touched by the cold,
And that I may keep the privilege
Of your company until we are old,
Because you are a reflection –

Now, I watch every step that I take,
Each excuse that I make.
You are my mirror.


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