Vortex Pen

Passing the memories, from her last to sharp birthday  the year the quick focus of faces I do remember... .  I have seen her face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a single countenance as if held in a mould. I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness beneath, and a face whose sheen I had lifted to see how beautiful it was and it will. I have seen an old face much lined with nothing, and a smooth face in which all things were graven. I know all her faces because I look through the fabric that weaves, and behold the reality beneath her. I have seen a face enduring her own ail and forgiving her own fails. A face stronger than the last, responsible than  her past and disciplined  with cast . . . Even all the tall trees and high stars stalking like deliberate giants  for her birthday, and all the hot adolescent memories seen through a screen of faces . . .  For her birthday thrust into the adult and actu