LOOK AT ME
Look at me! What do your eyes see?
Iím a bag of bones within flesh tethers;
bones that tend to ache in chilly weather.
Upon reflection, my mirror show each selection
to be a mass of wrinkles; crossed lines like a map.
I kept tanned when young and, therein lies the trap.
Old Sol soaked deep, the more damage to seep
into the pores and, made brittle, my very bones.
I was found exposed wherever Old Sol shown.
Chart the course and you will, of course,
in kindness, say the wrinkles depict strength,
and character, despite their depth and length.
Iím a mess for a fact! Do away with fibs and tact.
Time has brought changes undreamed of in my youth.
To my shell, time was unkind and, thatís the truth!
(but, in my mind, Iím still sixteen, rowdy and uncouth)
© 2019 The_Pip2
(All rights reserved)