She lies, draped in silk, perfect hair.
Eyes closed, unaware that people
stare at her beauty and flair,
fast asleep, without a care.
Mirror mirror, you’re getting old
forty four years ago you were sold
to a young woman, who wanted
to bless her mother with the perfect gift.
In the archway, she can be viewed
dreaming away in that world so pure.
The world of perfection and unbroken sleep,
instead of one where children weep.
No sorrow, no carnage or sense of duty;
only restful repose and everlasting beauty.
Forever her beauty will give me pleasure
and remind me that there is indeed a heaven.
A place where no one ever cries
when they leave this world with a last goodbye.
This mirror now hangs on the feature wall;
she does’t seem to notice at all
that her owner has gone to her forever home
and will stay with me till it’s time for me to be gone.
I hope that whoever is blessed to next own her
will enjoy her beauty and remember to clean her .
