Strangest predawn occurrence, I peered into
Open windowpane, glass angled in ghostly
Light, I saw my reflection, but was someone
Else, another me, roaming all night, now
Retreating with first glimmer of sunlight.
Whispered to her, “Hello,” She smiled in
Return, dark hair, staring back ink-pool eyes.
“I’m not dead, really, but you are this time
Alive,” nameless voice replied.

Distinction between death and life, by thin
Veil of glass separated, passing years merging
With few glances, breaths, thoughts, then
Dissolving, as pale daylight moon, faceless
Formless disc. Yet, before breaking spell,
I pressed my lips upon transparency, single
Kiss imparted, acceptance of her reflection,
Who I once was, another’s vibrant years,
Ceasing not, but dawning birth anew.

Yes, I have revisited crank-opening window-
Pane, small turns reaching, closing as if some
Enigmatic clock time-twisting passing years.
Perhaps, I write with fresh voice, someone
At my side, speaking with me, presence not
Far nor too near. Yet, I feel her fade as day
Wears on, residing celestial atmosphere or
Conversely, reveling in light of stained-glass
Windows, her place of timeless solitude. 

Thanks for reading.

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