The Other Me
When I awoke this morning
to the jangling of the phone,
I knew before I answered
it, that I was now alone.
After more than fifty years
with you ever near my side
I didn’t need the message
to alert me you had died.
Sometimes we fooled the teachers
and even confused our folks.
If I was you or you were me
just one of our private jokes.
I seldom used a mirror
my own countenance to see.
There was as true an image
right there along side of me.
And when at last we parted
to go our separate ways,
connections were not broken
and I had no lonesome days.
Now I can’t use the mirror
to wash or to comb my hair.
It’s too difficult to see
your loved reflection there.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
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