Choix du Coeur

Shall I wear widow’s weeds?

Drape the mirrors in black crepe
so I cannot see the age and pain
in my reflection?
so my soul
does not get trapped
within the glass?

Shall I pad the carpets
so my footfalls
are silent?

All in mourning for
years of dreams
cast aside
by a callow
sleight of hand?

Perhaps so,
on chilled and rainy March days
when it seems the warmth is lost

For the remaining days, though,
I will wear the colors of the Caribbean
and hope my eyes reflect the sun.
I will trace my fingers through
imaginary sand
and watch as light falls
into remembered seas
growning new again.