Through the looking glass she peered
at a faint and misty figure
it was not her, her shape nor form
what it was, she was not sure
She moved her hands this way and that
would the figure follow her motions
this ominous shape had her mystified
of its origin, she had no notion
She turned around to look behind
was it a shadow or play on light
there was nothing there distinguishable
was it imagination caught in her sight
Again, she gazed into the mirror
thinking by now it must surely be gone
but there it was, still a foggy mist
as it hovered and lingered on
Wondering if it could be the glaze
causing a tarnished and tainted reflection
for the bureau upon which it had hung
had passed down through generations
Although, she hadn't noticed before
why it appeared this night, seemed odd
but she wanted to get to the bottom of this
this illusion, or trick of the mind
Suddenly, a quick but distinct movement
the image appeared to motion to her
trying to draw her attention
through a vague and shapeless blur
Then it began to take some form
it was that of a distinguished man
though not of her time, she was positive
he appeared to be holding out his hand
In his hand, she could soon plainly see
as the shape was becoming more clear
a locket opened, with a tiny portrait
of a young woman, resembling her
She knew though, that it could not be
the dress and hair were from another time
perhaps a hundred years or more
since that portrait was taken back when
She felt he was trying to communicate
but his words she could not hear
he pressed his fingertips to the glass
it was evident, he longed to be near
Should she mimic his motions in return
put her fingers to the mirror as well
if anything, what could this prove
but she reached out, down her guard fell
First touching a finger, and then another
upon the glassy image of his own
suddenly the mirror appeared to ripple
like on the water, when a pebble is thrown
Soon the ripples engulfed the mirror
but they settled just as fast
and there before her, in full view
stood this handsome man from the past
He called her by a name not known
but he insisted it belonged to her
as he related a story of broken hearts
love once lost and his endless search
How he had noticed her, many times
standing in front of the looking glass
he had often called out, with great sorrow
for she failed to acknowledge his calls
Now, should she stay or go with him
for she had no ties to this plane
no family or lovers to hold her back
giving into his plea, no need to remain
Ever so gingerly, climbing the bureau
as he helped her step through the frame
and together they lived, back in time
not once regretting the choice she made
~PennyLynne~