My Two Faces










      I look in the mirror... and what do I see

      But a friendly face smiling back at me.


      "Good morning" I say... and how are you today?

      The image smiles back... "All is great my way!"


      We are happy, so happy... happy as can be.

      Me on this side looking at the one who is smiling at me.


      Along comes a picture... from the phography store,

      It tells a tale... never heard before.


      Look at the lines... crossing your brow!

      Look at the age... showing up somehow!


      What has happened... where did the smiling one go?

      She didn't have wrinkles... at least they did not show.


      The mirror is kinder... it laughs happily,

      The snapshot is horrid... it criticizes me.


      Frozen on paper... the lies not meant to see.

      Age creeping up on me... dev-is-tating-ly.


      Tear up the paper... go back to the mirror,

      The face in there is the one to keep nearer


      She is the happy one... smiling, forever young.

      Papers have pictures... reflections far flung.


      far from the image we all want to see...

      Young and happy still in the mirror... eternally.


      Throw out the camera... we need it no more.

      No more images from the photography store!


      I'll keep company with the one in the mirror.

      I like her style... to me, it is clearer.


      A young attitude... looking back at me.

      The young "me", I hope... that you will always see



      Author: Rose M. Furman














      A ROSE




      If a rose had a soul
      that could love before fading,
      would the distance between two gardens...
      diminish it's bloom?

      If a rose had a voice
      that could be heard above the waterfall,
      would the wind spirit it away...
      to the waiting petals of it's lover?

      If a rose had your love,
      needing all you could lavish,
      would you tend its needs daily, nurturing with pride...
      as you adoringly watched it respond?

      In the nursery store, would you take a chance on a rose
      unnamed, alone, with no tag, no history, no bloom,
      no clues to how, or when, or what it will produce?
      Do you take chances on roses and love?


      Author: Rose M. Furman







      I dedicate this to Rose for allowing me to use her beautiful poems
      Please, drop her a line...PoseyFace1












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