Her eyes, her eyes,
I know the blue,
The depths and hue.
For they are mine too.

Her hands, delicate and frail,
Her spirit strong,
She fought to no avail.
The mirror she looked upon
To see herself was me.

She was a force, a shrew,
At times there was no clue,
Which way this woman would waif,
So burdened, bruised, and blue.

She’d shine so high,
She’d fall, we’d cry.
Her heart was ours,
Her way-our disguise,
She made many a surprise.

She is the power, the shame,
For there is no one to blame.
She casts a glow, a heartfelt blow,
Never to show.

Empowers many, disables few,
Takes hearts and destroys any clue.

She created me,
I am bewildered, amazed, and amused.
She’s everything I see, and,
Every memory I flee.

© Laurie Markvart