She has become
The Madonna,
I once thought
She was,
A new image
Posed for public
Consumption,
A darker yet
Still angelic look
That strikes me
The way images of her
Did in the past,
Straighter hair
Framing her face,
The intensity of her
Dark eyes,
Waking the urges
The way her gaze
Always did, her mouth,
Always an invitation
For a kiss,
Not quite smiling,
Yet not at all sad,
Her face the face
That set so many
Ships to sail,
More mature,
Yet not old,
If anything
More resolved
Perhaps even
Filled with a sense of peace,
This face the face
I come back to again
And again, if only
In dreams,
Still as potent as
When we were still
Both younger,
When we were both
Still naïve,
An image that leaps
Out at me the minute
I see it,
Almost a stranger,
Certainly different,
Even though it is
The same face,
And I still stare,
Star struck.
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