So it is...

This started as one thing... and ended as something else entirely. I am not certain how that came to be, but so it is.

She looked into the mirror to find herself,
       and found only a reflection.

So she straightened what could be straightened.  
Smoothed what seemed to need smoothing.

Her outward sigh was slight.
      The inward version louder; containing everything which she felt but could not name.

So typical of her really.

That which was showing was calmed, straightened and smoothed.  
But the inside -- a rough eddying pool of, raw, whiplash emotion.  Self-recrimination, with a mix of regret, tinged with loss, sprinkled with sadness and containing things
       which never were.

Things which cold not be spoken aloud,
    and did not appreciate acknowledgement,
    yet which would no longer go unnoticed.
“Pay me heed NOW” the usually small voice said in an obnoxiously loud.... tone,
    rich in sarcasm.  Her brand of humor.

Memories from days gone by tugged at her.
Tearing her from today's reflection.
Times past.  Time passed.  Memories,
of First's, and of One-and-Only's.
Glances, Gazes, Sighs and a Steady March toward Destined-to-Be.
Road Trips, Side Trips, Head Trips.
Love - the kind that drives you
        to be something better than what you already are.
A richly woven tapestry of a life lived with intent and purpose.

The clock in the other room chimed - interrupting her reverie.
So noted.  A passing of yet one more hour.
The chimes - music of a bygone era. 
A small movement in the symphony of a lifetime.
So many hours ticked by unnoticed.  So many chimes rung.

The clock - once a symbol of home.  No longer hers.
Now - merely another something to be packaged and shipped.
So much of a life to be packaged and shipped.

Toward the mirror once more she faced herself.
Smiled.
In an effort to find her way to hopeful.
Seeking to look fulfilled.
What she achieved, however
    was an ill-concealed uncertainty.

Was this not what she most wanted?
A culmination of all that that had come earlier.
Moments which had finally built to
     .....  this.

Another sigh found it’s way to her lips.
Escaped unbidden.  

Perhaps a cigarette?  
    No.  That does not belong to this time.
    That is something belonging to another part of her.
    Attached to an older and more tired version of herself.
That part of her was not welcome here or now.

Her final glance into the glass revealed a flash
    of her truest self.
She did not see the beauty.
    She saw the cliche.
She saw the totality of what she had never been willing to acknowledge.
    Her common-ness
    Her everybodyelse-ness
    Her ...
        human-ness

Hiding herself
Behind intelligence and random acts of kindness.

Here she acknowledged all that she was.
     . . . . human
Giving herself away bit by bit.
    Until she was empty.
And wanting.

Always wanting.
    Something
else.

There was no time to reflect on this now.
It was time - NOW!

 ... to go.

To get to the place she most wanted to be.

She knew by knowing,
    Now was the time.

She knew by the change in the charge of air.
She simply knew....
    Whom.
    Him.
    Him whom she’d known for a seeming eternity.
    Now Him whom she wondered if she’d ever known at 
         all.
.....
An entire life story contained in one look.
Pain, sacrifice, an off-brand code of honor.
A smile offered.
A tilt of the head as an acknowledgement.

The slight tilt was the tell.

And as she saw this,
   She knew.

This would never change.
He would never change.
What she saw was all it ever would be.
     Perhaps all it ever was.

so....

 It came to this.
   As short clang of the chime announced the passing of yet   another quarter of an hour.
   
    The time was now
      And it had come

Time
        To bid welcome,
            To the final goodbye.

Author's Note

more experimentationalism

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

you have a unique style that sort of lulls the reader in..almost without warning. This was a wonderful journey you took me on, I too could relate to the reference to cigarettes..Don't smoke now, haven't for years but there was a time when that demon used to pull at my resolve in more bitter circumstances

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Thank you so very much for your review and kind comments. They are received with much gratitude. Always enjoy knowing what the experience of the reader is. I only know what calls me to throw words on a page. Thank you :)

[Dr. Wood ?]

None of us have too much control over what we seem to be compelled to write. Your pen has an expert guide

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Profound. "Mirror mirror on the wall!" Ex what? More like life observed, again a sense of self loathing and realisation shines through this piece. Disapointment at self at lifes failings. Captivating and eloquent read though

[Rusty]

a pen, a keyboard, a mirror, a gavel.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Yes. Thank you. You see much.

[Rusty]

rose colored the lens.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Perhaps a bit, but the view is prettier.

[Patricia B. Hepler]

'...Perhaps a cigarette?
No. That does not belong to this time.'

'...Here she acknowledged all that she was.
. . . . human
Giving herself away bit by bit.
Until she was empty.
And wanting.'

'...An entire life story contained in one look.'


''... The time was now.
To bid welcome,
To that final goodbye.'

Key phrases of an exceptional poem.. The narrator describes many facets of being, effortlessly. I really am drawn to the last verse...~pat

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Thank you so much for your review and thoughts on this. More of me in this piece than anything I have done to date. My gratitude is heartfelt and genuine. Thanks.

[lee von cleef]

Dangerous stuff thoughts on paper, a window to modern woman, "shaken not Stirred"
Punctuation too; now. welcome, goodbye. Good stuff ,don't let your thoughts box you in, open your heart for a guide, that spirit though wild and caged , like Nancy's
song," these boots are going to walk " Power, woman, watch out world.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Wow! Thank you - for all of that. Shaking my head rather wondrously at all of that. Thank you.

[lee von cleef]

you tube,Nancy Sinatra, power woman theme song !" these Boots are made for walking"

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

THAT I do know (firsthand sadly). It was the rest of the words up there I was talking to.

[lee von cleef]

just what I felt through your words, they will reflect the piece of time when you wrote them, a kind of portal, for you and reader to peek in on,we all stand on our own scars so our perspective's are different, just thought the wild caged spirit needs to write every now and then.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Came back to this one. Made the fountain run again. Dang it! Thank you for your friendship. So few words to try to hold such deep thoughts. Thank you.

[lee von cleef]

Fountains come in all flavors, and times bends...just bend.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Bending... so as not to break. Many warm thoughts flow in an south easterly direction. Maybe all the way to Arkansas.

[lee von cleef]

the breaking ,.. yes you are in tune all day long . be you ,be wry, just be.

[Pax]

great experimentation and i enjoyed the read.
a excellent ending.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Thank you for the review and comments and -AH!! You used my new word!!!! Cool - I can now coin it! Appreciate that too.

[Ken Simm.]

A nightime piece. In a nightime mirror. Although I can see such a mirror it is not physical. Mirrors like this never are.
I note from some comments that this is a change from your usual style. Well mirrors always show the opposite don't they? Reflection has more than one meaning and this noir piece explores some of the important one's wonderfully.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

OK - I do tend to get jealous when the review is written better than the write. Not really. Actually am quite pleased that those with an opinion of merit have come by to comment. To that - thank you for your review. Greatly GREATLY appreciated. Learned something of myself as a writer in it.

[Tate Morgan]

Perhaps a cigarette?
No. That does not belong to this time.
That is something belonging to another part of her.
Attached to an older and more tired version of herself.
I can relate to this ideal of ones self.Oh the day we wake to find our youth has fled and we are not too far behind

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Thank you for your comments Tate. Always appreciate when you wander over here and leave your thoughts. They are astute, well thought out and appreciated!

[Tate Morgan]

we all are on the same ship and headed in the same direction Just a matter of who we wish to ride with

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Well said friend.

[Baby Ricochet]

Poems can be hard to reign in. When you do rhyming they can drift WAY off track so you gotta be firm, but gentle. Kinda like seducing a chick half your age

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Laughing at that one. Never seduced a chick half my age... but seemingly a sensible statement. My rhyme always ends up Seus-esque. This is more prosey I guess. If that is even a thing. Thanks for reading :)

[Baby Ricochet]

HA! No prob, Prosey's a thing. If it wasn't before it is now.

[SHEEMA HUQ]

i'm kind of trying to fathom her sense of loss....ageing, her domestic situation, you know how light and reflection can draw attention to different facets of the face...emphasising different facets of life. I enjoyed, hope you are keeping well.

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Thank you Sheema. I am well - thank you. Often the deeply internal rumblings surface. They don't drive the bus, but they still contribute to that knocking in the engine. (Well, that and cheap fuel)