Miss Willow
The lake is calm. You have your looking-glass
and see yourself amid bright cumulus.
Your lovely locks reflect the morning's gold
and add green hue from lime to emerald.
Obsessed with self your head is ever bowed.
No other miss I know is quite so proud.
Or do you focus through the watery deep
into the dark where some sad secrets sleep.
Are your thoughts upon what you see reflect,
or do they go beyond to re-connect?
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