Before the Flood

I caught a glimpse in the bathroom mirror,

eyes glistening, holding back a tide,

a scene from a movie spins, old and dear,

a diner table where sorrow and pie collide.

The flick of a faucet drips soft like regret,

a plink that dances with unspent desire,

a moment that lingers, too heavy to forget,

breath held tight, caught in the wire.