Now
you
see
her.


(She will always be
your dream, never
your memory.)


Her face opens
like the rising sun.
Her eyes are
the shining emeralds
of a transcendent Buddha.


Her lips are as pure
and foolproof as those
of a naked nun.


(She will always be
your dream, never
your memory.)


Now
you
don't.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shivering-mirrors/