The Mirror.

                                                                                

I stare at the eyes that have seen so much,

I look for the soul that I could almost touch.

Who is this woman that stares at me?

I'm sure I knew her once, intimately.

As we stare at each other, my reflection and I,

The blue turns to red as I start to cry.

The wrinkles, lines and white strands,

Remind me of those that belonged to my grans'.

Where did you come from, and who are you?

Come on old woman, give me a clue!

I used to know that face and soul,

All the wrinkles and the mole.

The lips were fuller and the teeth were white,

The skin was smoother, no wrinkles in sight.

No dark shadows under the eyes,

No pores, at least not crater size!

Never a beauty, not by a long shot,

But compared to now, my reflection was hot!

She sneeked up on me in the night,

This middle-aged woman and gave me a fright.

With tears now flowing, I continue to stare,

So much has changed, so hard to bear.

The deeper I look, the more I see,

Who are you and where is me?

I touch the glass and nod my head,

Instead of starring I should have fled.

With my fingers I stretch the skin,

I'd like to chuck it in the bin!

Ageing is not for the weak of heart,

But look and accept in order to re-start.

The lines and wrinkles are my life story,

Show what's past, in all it's glory.

Coming to terms with my reflection,

It's older now, but still works perfection.

Stop the weeping and nashing of teeth,

Learn to see what's underneath.

To gaze at the mirror, is to look within,

Not just to stare at my double chin!

Dry the tears and find the soul,

Forget the physical and go,go go!