Lies

More about Lies

Is this the face that won for her the man
Whose amazed and clumsy fingers put that ring upon her hand?
No need to search that mirror for the years
The menace in their message shouts across the blur of tears

So this is beauty's finish. Like Rodin's "Belle Heaulmière"
The pretty maiden trapped inside the ranch wife's toil and care
Well, after seven kids, that's no surprise
But why cannot her mirror tell her lies
-- Stan Rogers, "Lies"