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i
Standing before the mirror,
The girl stares back at me.
She wears a dress of deepest blue,
And the skirts are too long for her.
As she twirls and watches the fabric spin,
She looks like a child playing dress up.
Her skin is pale and not without blemish,
Adorned with freckles and hated birthmark.
Long brown hair that is not just one colour,
It never sits flat, with tangles and curls.
No matter how carefully it is brushed and tied,
Something always escapes from its binding.
Her nails are tattered, she bites them from nerves,
With scattered remnants of coloured polish.
Her eyes are blue like so many others,
Without sparkle or joy they stare.
And her figure is normal, enhanced by her size,
She's so small, not worth noticing.
As the girl sighs and looks away from the mirror,
I realise that there is nothing special about her.
ii
Standing in front of a mirror,
A girl looks out at the world.
Wearing her gown of deepest blue,
One hand holds so she will not trip.
She turns gracefully in place with her eyes closed,
Imagining the ballroom around her.
Her skin is pale and enhanced by her dress,
A birthmark draws the eyes to her lips.
Her hair is streaked by lines of colour,
Earthy with flashes of flame and sunlight.
It dances around her in circles and waves,
Showing her freedom and wildness.
Her nails are imperfect, both bitten and torn,
But she uses those hands as she works.
The eyes of this girl are like summer,
Her gaze intent as she watches.
And her figure is petite, though she is small,
But her thoughts are too big for this world.
As the girl smiles and walks from the mirror,
Someone will realise how special she is.
All poems © Copyright 1997-2002 by Catherine.
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