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.