Standing there gazing in the reflection
And wondering what does that image show
Does the view epitomize perfection
Like an impression once seen years ago.
They, the commoners rush passed every day
As their shifting eyes seem to glare and stare
While perceiving the image that obeys
And comparing the vision to what flares.
Endless, in the day, she waltzes onward
Encompassing a shyness in her eyes
Hoping, desiring to have conquered
Their falseheartedly perception that lies.
Fixed, looking forward, never looking back
Marching forward to the control of knack.