It flickers like a wobbly candle
against the eyelid of a pining shadow-puppet
as it wonders at the reflection
caught in a nearby window.

A face peers out and reconciles
with the memories somewhat floating
among her storage compartments
looking for something to wear.

Her face with its shuttered expressions
closed up for the winter
and wearing Long Johns to bed.
Cold nights are cause for shivering.

Mirror-like waters repeat her pattern
makes sight less blind
and burdens less sheltered
where gazing is a crystal ball.

It flickers like a wobbly candle
but it valiantly keeps its shape
waiting on some pause of breath
to say she is no longer sighing.