Window Stranger

A shop window, dusk light, warped and grim.

I paused a beat, to tie my shoe.

And caught a face, along the rim,

a stranger's gaze, that looked right through.

The eyes were mine, the hair the same.

But something in the jaw, the line.

A subtle shift, I couldn't name.

This person wasn't truly mine.

The faint new crow's feet, deep and set.

A tired curve around the mouth.

A recognition, tinged with fret.

The truth that travels from the South

of youth, towards a different shore.