Christine's Reflection

Those blank eyes staring sadly,
From a sanctuary of white
Phantom echoes of pain radiating around-
Those beautiful green eyes gazing
At a piece of memory-
And memory spoke of shattered times,
Of dreams gone horribly awry
And there was always the pain!
Memories of an angel,
Of a phantom,
Of the darkness and the light-
But he was a specter,
Fantome,
Phasmida-
And so he lived.
A brilliant specter,
Wonderful angel-
Her teacher,
Who loved her!
And she, who could not love back . . .
Oh, those memories brought so much pain!
Flashing before her eyes were
Her mirror,
His home,
Apollo's Lyre . . .
And that phantom pain kept coming.
How he had loved her,
And her affections were another's!
What torment that must have been,
She now realized-
To love desperately,
And know that you were not loved back-
What torture for her Ange de la Musique,
Who had watched her from
Behind her dressing-room mirror
And loved her like nothing else!
And she still could not love back!
But the phantom's angel could only reflect
On what once had been,
Now was gone-
Dying away as silently
As the shadows in which her phantom had lived . . .