In the old mirror, pale and worn,
Her face reflects, so soft, forlorn,
Searching deep within the glass,
For something real that might hold fast.
Her gaze dissolves, both sharp and true,
Where skin meets shadow, dark yet blue,
As if this fleeting, frozen light,
Could lead her back into the night.
She lingers there, a shadowed trace,
In silent glass, a frozen place.
The world grows dim, her breath stands still,
Yet in her eyes, there burns life’s will.