Through the looking glass,
a girl looks on with eyes of blue,
lips of red speak of things untrue.
Eyeing herself, she’s of certain class;
other girls, envious of what she has.
All she wants is to live life anew.
Mama didn’t know what to do with this girl,
this girl, looking on, through the looking glass.
Life is her excuse, she says us girls always finish last.
Another home has come and gone with the wind.
Seasons change, as does the girl with eyes of blue.
Waves of gold, flowing down, fair skin, untouched.
Looking on, through the looking glass, so unsure.
Looking on, she asks, “Who are you?”
© Stephanie Cardozo, 2016. Stephanie Cardozo, All rights reserved.