Two Faces, One Wall

She stands in front, her fingers near her lips,
a quiet thought half-resting on her face,
unhurried, soft, a stillness that won't slip,
content to hold this calm and gentle space.

But in the round glass behind her something turns,
a darker gaze that searches, almost grieves,
a woman watching while the other yearns
for nothing more than what the moment leaves.

One holds the present, easy and serene,
the other carries doubt she cannot name.
Between them runs an unseen, silver seam—
two hearts, two moods, and yet they look the same.