when she appears

A mirror faces a mirror
Perfectly empty, sharing nothing
in equal measures.

When she appears,
she is, for a moment or two,
as small as the sky
and scarce as the stars.
They argue for her endlessness.

A temporary infinity.

Her glance as reckoned as her turn
and neither weighed against return
but hushed by absence, not regret,
content they are,
indifferent.

I pity the mirrors, so perfectly empty.
They forget how full they are
when she appears.


.