Call it her phantom, visage or dream
that escapes the confines of my mind
running amok in the real world
braking everything that she could find
guitar, piano, table, chair, plates
she even brings smiles to the grind
Is it my late night wine to be blamed
or is something wrong with my mind?
I look at her through a mirror
I see a whole new world
I bring her roses every day
to put in the image of her hair
i bring the light of the stars and the moon
to bathe her image in love and purity.
She stands on the other side of the mirror
She sees nothing but the dark shadow
of an immovable object