Through the Looking Glass

I look in the mirror, and who do I see?
It seems I should know the girl staring at me.

Some days she smiles, some she seems sad.
Sometimes I wonder what kind of day she has had.

At a glance, she's a woman. On a whim, she's a girl.
Some days her age just seems a great whirl.

Her eyes can be haunting, dark green or bright clear.
I cannot recall the last they allowed tears.

Sometimes her cheeks blush, but often they're pale.
I've seen her put blush on, most time to no avail.

Her lips become full as she applies her sweet balm,
They deepen in color and smile real calm.

Some days it takes much to lighten that face.
I just want to reach out and those sad lines erase.

But before I can get much too close to reach her,
She turns quickly away, leaving sight in a blur.

Some days she's a beauty, and I just stop and stare,
And admire her eyes, and her smile, and her hair.

I don't think she minds, this enrapture from me.
It's amazing for me to be near one as she.

Sometimes she'll come home, and with a look through the glass
I know it's been hard keeping up in her class.

Some days her clothes fit her, and she curtsies at me.
Often they hang loose, with dismay I can see.

She'll leave early morning, late at night she'll come in.
Sometimes I wonder if she's eaten anything.

Sometimes she'll avert her eyes from your stare,
I wonder what secrets she hides under there.

She never will tell, just smiles with a nod.
I wonder how long she can keep this facade.

I wonder what kind of a world she lives in.
Is the food really good? Do her shoes ever wear thin?

I wonder what placees she visits and sees.
Building real high? Forests and trees?

Perhaps she's a hero, and saves lives at night.
Maybe she sometimes prefers to have light.

Does she like movies with tales of lore,
Of maids in long dresses, and men off to war?

Does she sit in the sunlight and read a good book?
Does she dance in the moonlight in her own little nook?

Two worlds joined by glass, a portal of sorts.
So much to be said, much more is left short.

Oh, the things I could know of the one that I see.
The thing that's queer most- is that woman there is me.