Sentinel

The reflection never goes away really,
still there someplace in the wishing,
it's the first brightness to find, an
everpresent sentinel for all its shapes
and status. I whisper alone how tall
you stand hovering before the break
of today, look who provides company
in the presence of such well-earned
solitude... For some, this moment
proves itself a harsh witness, the
reality of bitter chill, forced biting
wind to sear the soul, thinking the
reflection has gone when it has only
been hidden from sight by change.