I hardly recognize the person in the mirror.
She has my face; she wears my hair.
Her eyes are a little different,
if you look deeply books of pain still reside there.
You can see she has battle scars, history.
Her eyes tell stories as they sway around the room.
I see something unusual, something I don’t really recognize.
There’s a sparkle, a shine, a gleam.
It’s not innocence, we can never recover that.
There’s no tears, at least not in this moment.
There’s no fear, no pain.
I almost hear a chuckle in her voice,
I can feel the smile growing on her face.
What is it about this person in the mirror,
this familiar stranger?
Has something re-awoken in her?
Her eyes have a shimmer,
quite unlike the stars, not like the sun.
It’s not powerfully strong, but it’s there.
It’s present and flashing, growing with each second.
It isn’t fleeting as a comet or burning with intensity.
But it’s becoming obvious, to anyone really looking for any length of time.
This person in the mirror seems beyond content.
Maybe she’ll stay and visit for awhile,
for she seems to have a little something extra,
In her smile, in her eyes, in her everything.
This person in the mirror, she seems almost –
No, she seems truly –
well what do you know……