January 23, 1993*

Tender young thighs and old cushions
Warm places to rest her sweet head
Hard sweating smells and soft fingers
And hair stretched out on the bed

There's a ghost in the jewellery box mirror
As pretty as any you’ve seen
There's a ghost in the jewellery box mirror
Reflecting a tired old dream

Ah but none of us know why she’s spinning
When in truth she is headed nowhere
Though each of us forms an opinion
We must lose as the truth comes to bare

There's a ghost in the jewellery box mirror
For the devil is female it's said
There's a ghost in the jewellery box mirror
It's pretty 'til it turns its head

There's a grace that we lose when we're aged
There's an honour we lose when we lie
There's a guilt that can tear the heart ragged
When it beds down with truth at its side

There's a ghost in the jewellery box mirror
And all I can do is to stare
There's a ghost in the jewellery box mirror
I know because you placed it there

There's a heart beat to count every moment
We're apart and both in despair
You cry for a love that is past, Dear
I cry for a love is still here

And what trickery has taken this anger
That has witnessed your love laying dead
and placed it full in the sunlight
where it festered and flew from my head?

James H. Webb