I trace the glass with quiet sighs,
Where lovely visions taunt my eyes—
A face like starlight, soft and fair,
A crown of silk for golden hair.
If beauty dwelt within my hold,
Would time be kind?
Would hearts grow bold?
Would sorrow fade like mist at dawn,
If I were lovely, would love stay drawn?
But mirror-me, so plain, so small,
Knows longing builds the highest wall—
For grace is more than shape or hue,
Yet still… I ache to taste it too.
I wish I was beautiful