When her eyes peer into the mirror,
they look for fairness,
always saw her the most fair.
Beauty is in the beholder’s eye,
beneath the arched brow,
lit by jealousy.
Years passed; Snow White died.
The same carved mirror reflects gray hair.
The books around read death.
Bending to sit on the throne, back curses.
Spring outside once again,
an awakening kiss, a nightmare.
Always Winter inside now.
Fair never there.
And now it is gone.
Originally published in Brief Wilderness