Girl in the Mirror

I saw that girl again,
glancing at me as I glided by.
Her eyes still glistened with childhood,
but were surrounded by creases of age.
The tears have dried and her lips
slightly curled,
knowingly,
wiser
than our first encounter.

Huddled in a deep corner,
in an ill fitted pink sweat suit.
I stood apart and behind,
taking in laughing, snarled voices
chanting-
caterwauling-
a eurhythmic sound.
Watching puerile
bitter lips
Poking-
Prodding-
tearing
her to shreds.
Silent tears rocked her chest-
salty rivers damned behind
tense eyelids,
words held back by an impotent tongue.

The girl grew quieter as the years slipped away.
Became a forgotten figure,
just an echo of bemused laughing.
Secluded from eyes,
she buried her pain.

Then one day she was waiting,
as I walked by-
that reflected pond erect in the hall.
Unwilling to look back,
I caught a glimpse of an eloquent smile,
emerged from her pink cocoon,
she has managed to find her moment in the opal sky.

I saw that girl the other day,
when I took the time to search.
At last I stopped, and she stood still.
Turning at a precise instant-
irises connected-
as I reached-
she raised her hand,
and time found away to let,
our fingers meet-
on the same spot-
on the cold surface.