From my porcelain perch
I watch my mother's reflection
in the bathroom mirror.
Her fingers and brush move awkwardly
to untangle and tame her long, coarse mane.
The brush whispers through her thick brown hair
like wind rustles through dry leaves.
The brush chinks onto the marble counter top.
Her fingers smooth sable locks behind shapely ears.
Our eyes meet in the mirror.
She smiles at me.
I am discovered.
Comments
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I love the image you brought to my mind reading this, it was so easy to picture this played out and the ending was very touching. Wonderful work, it has been a long time but glad I stopped by, not even sure you remember me
Adriana
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