Smoke And Mirrors

As a Tithonus, waking joyfully in lust
To see the golden sun
I choose, humbly, to greet you
My love.

The air shimmers as you move
Making space, Paying homage
To your passing
Bowing and scraping on its heels.

What joys are concealed within that smile?
It curves easily upon your face
Like a rose in full bloom's spring
Resting.

What infinite grace is in your sway
The swish and flick of the ends of your skirt
Caught in motion, still
For a moment, a frame, a sketch.

The arch of your back as you stand
Those long, slender legs taut at ease
Do you practice your looks on a mirror
Before the unsuspecting public?

You do, do you not?
As you put on the false colors
Which brighten and pale
The various hues across your face?

You do rehearse, don't you?
Before you say just that much.
The hint of a thought of a murmur
Lips caressing my ears with only sound?

It is fake, is it, or do you claim reality
On the smoky eyes
Which invite into their depths
Depths no one man could ever reach?

For there are many who have tried
And many who failed
Their corpses, frozen, in disbelief and horror
Lie along the way.

The way is crooked, and paved
With daggers and exotic poisons
An illusion you perpetuate, easily and always
You, of smoke and of mirrors.