December 17, 2009
Seated in her paisley chair
In the warm sun she twirls her hair,
Sipping coffee while out the window she stares
On a summer day
To the mirror her eyes wander
And a reflection stares back and she ponders
Who am I really
For I am no the that woman
Courageous elegant and modest
I am small quiet and afraid
To step out side my door
But look it is my face
She touches
It is my voice
She listens
It is me
She knows

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