Your dressing table in the hall

In the house in fifth avenue
I put a small pink white marble table
below a mirror in the corridor
with a bowl with flowers standing on it

that acted as your dressing table
and as a place of display
where I saw your face smiling back at me
while you were doing your hair
teasing with curling tongs
or reflections of the rows of paintings
with the wood floor fading into the distance

and now that mirror and table
is probably still there,
but you are living alone
in that big house
and will never again
smile back into my face.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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