Watching my reflection

Watching my reflection looking back at me,

Wondering how the thieving wrinkles will break into my existence.

The inevitable future that eluded imagination, seems relentless in its pursuit of attention,

The reflection I see has turned back and stepped forward too often. Currently, she seems unperturbed and diligent in its attention to the "now".

I move closer to read the shyness in the eyes as the flickering eyelashes move in with curiosity, mutually, from both sides of the mirror. Slight sweet pain in the waist as I reminisce the beautiful yoga pose, I almost humorously fell out of.

A step closer, a slight touch of the hand and I can almost smell my perfume through the glass.

There she is, gallantly middle-aged, mischievously young and yet unhinged by the hammering of yesterday's voices.

The long-overgrown locks and the healthy frame, adorned by a comfortable in-house wardrobe, cannot hide the eyes that implore for steadiness. And the twinkle asking for restrained adventure.

She chides me for running so fast, and seeks that I implode with satisfaction and joy so she can rest a little, and scatter away the chimes of diligence, responsibility and security.

There it is -the slight hint of a smile of gratitude, the anticipation to the quiet evening with music and wine, and the pleasure of remarkable company- me and her.

I move out of my gaze, and wonder if I'll ever see myself differently. Self-intimacy and support, the inner chimes of intuition and the formidable elegance of knowing just enough has driven me towards an existence where each sip to tea is valued and appreciated.

Letting go of cloudy journal mourning and panicked phone calls for with quivering voice, has given way to moisturized hands and the smell of lavender by the bed side. When did it become so crucial for me to take care of myself? Unequivocally my own focus and desire emerged as the primal instinct and just in time.

I take a lasting look; smile back at the woman I have become and decide to leave the window open for the night. Lest the thieving wrinkles wake me up and break my sleep, whilst they rant and push their way through. Might just be better if I am not woken from my peaceful slumber, knowing they will do their jobs; and well enough too; for me to wake up and view another masterpiece in the morning.

Lights off!