Shall I
Outside my closed window pass the young men, black hair and bronzed bodies,
Once I held such a man close to me-felt his strength and saw his beauty.
Inside my old mirror the one we gazed into to admire our reflections once,
Now the mirror reflects back lies and I never wipe the dust that settles on it.
Shall I open the rusted catch of my window-let in the light and sounds of voices?
Shall I clean my old mirror and face a truth I cannot bear?
No, because I have already silently captured a past within these crumbling walls,
And my old coat hangs stiffly in the hallway on a rusted nail and cannot be worn.
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