I Stare In the Mirror
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Although I must lay claim to some of the ailments of age, I count myself lucky to have escaped (so far) some of the extremes that advancing years can bring.
But there are some days (and when I wrote this in 2022 it must have been one of them) when it all catches up with me and gives me an unpleasant kick.
Listen to poem:
I Stare in the Mirror
I stare in the mirror and what do I see?
An old man with rheumy eyes looking at me.
Who is this old codger, this balding old shell,
Who cannot remember what it’s like to feel well?
Where is the vibrance, the get up and go?
Why are his movements so painful and slow?
Who stole his glowing skin, his dark flashing eyes,
His derring-do, courage, his sense of emprise?
What happened to big ideas? Future? Ambition?
Why do his joints fight a war of attrition?
Why can he see clearly adolescence long past,
When he cannot remember the thing he ate last?
It doesn’t make sense, I don’t recognise him,
With his belly and baldness and weakness of limb.
No! That mirror’s a liar, whatever I see.
Whoever that old man is, he can’t be me!
Copyright © Brian K. Bilverstone | Year Posted 2022
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