Beauty Before a Mirror

There is a mirror on the wall, smooth and seven feet tall, where she saw her own face In a merry wedding day and her mother’s necklace. Still as Canova’s Terpsichore, she couldn’t hold anymore, the wind moved her around, like a cloud in a sunny day, with a long whistling sound. Her feet glided over the land, she dissolved like cotton candy escaping from a tight embrace, she wanted freedom that day to beam with maiden’s grace. Beauty is content like a child, who found a rose in the wild underneath a verdant tree, blossoming in a spring’s day and said: “This rose is me?”