The image reflected
back --
distorted panes --
a funhouse mirror
weeping
loss of pride.
A single wine glass,
half tasted,
warms next to an untouched plate,
chilled in the post
twilight
of a year
ailing toward a peace
first-snow promises,
not yet blanketed
in the shroud
that dulls an ugliness
struggling to continue.
Guttering candles
cast
false glow on a serenely
frozen smile.
