My face is a palindrome when smiling;
it folds upon itself with a jagged grace,
a symmetry of feeling, beguiling
but aimed at the truth, looking at its face:
Two stems left in the crystal, green and strong,
holding bulbs, purple and blue, closed off from
their light of mutual reception; it's wrong,
but we learn our true rights playin' possum:
The blinds are closed now, but when divine hands
take off the blinders from the window's eyes,
these flowers will bloom as true reflections,
shedding colors for light – brilliant reprise:
Like fireworks on ice, twin souls will glow
in Paradise or Earth – reflections show.
urbansonnets 