Objects in the Mirror

When I walked into the room, how her face lit up.
We were one, the very instant our eyes locked. 
She moved forward, a move towards our embrace,
but her face clouded over as others rushed ahead.

Hugging through father, brothers, aunts and uncles,
frantically, I searched for my mother's open face.
By the time I reach her side, the smile has faded.
She hugs me hard, patting my back as if I need to burp.

I think of her face, at first surprise, when I had her heart.
The love that was behind those eyes, the words at parted lip,
all of this belonged to me at first gaze and happen-glance,
before objects in the mirror become further than they appeared.