The Devils Clock minuets in widdershins as she bows before the two.
Unclear images within the mirror of a beauty that is not you.
I dance and dance yet she does not come.
Before my eyes age replaces the young.
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What I feel here is utter terror. This work shows you can write with bleak gutsiness as well as ethereal beauty; 'I dance and dance yet she does not come.' The repetition adds a sense of panic here. Well done.