I.
I think on the moon in a dark, starless sky
Does she still remember who beneath her cried
On an evening like this, with twilight on high;
The tears shed hundreds of years ago
Before the great war, before the cock crowed?
Do the clouds hold memories of our love,
Of those who embraced with them up above,
Of medieval lovers, who history forgot
Does the sunset recall the future they sought? 
How wondrous a thought that the dusk and the dawn,
Hold sights we can share with those dead and gone.

II.
I spy in the mirror a nose I despise,
On a sallow-skinned woman with overgrown eyes
Both her waist and her figure not quite the right size-
Though my harrowing monologue comes to an end,
When I stop to peer through an old hand-me-down lens,
Where an ocular tour through my own family tree
Reveals branches of women who smile back at me.
One with teeth not quite white and pale yellow skin,
One who snorts when she laughs, and her arms paper-thin
Hold a babe at her hip and her love by her side
My own insecurity was once their great pride.