Craft My Image
At seventy-seven years-plus, my noggin is a barren landscape
that once sprouted a thick crop of chestnut brown hair.
And now, some scattered strands of grey
still sprout here and there, above a fussy hedge
edging my closely cropped terrain.
Proceed further down, and you'll find
a weathered forehead with long furrows
running in parallel horizontal worry lines.
And if you keep descending,
you will come across two bushy brows
resembling wiry bristles in disarray.
Below them, you'll find two, slightly out-of-focus eyes;
bright brown orbs, afloat in a sea of white.
Keep following the sloping curvature of my plump face,
and you'll come across a rugged,
slightly broken schnoz of a nose;
jutting out, in a hawkish sort of way.
Continue down, and you'll see a pair of crinkled lips,
wearing a smug, satisfied smile.
Lower down, you'll find a jutting chin,
dappled with stumps of yesterday's stubble.
Now, step back, and let my features sink in
as they take shape in your thoughts,
and your imagination crafts my image within your mind.
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