Past My Prime
In honesty I must admit
I’m slipping slowly past my prime.
I hadn’t noticed transformation
Happening to me over time.
Though my memory needed prodding,
When I forgot an old friend’s name,.
I told myself I hadn’t changed
And still looked very much the same.
But windexing my mirror in
A seizure of fanatic clean,
Took the forgiving film away,
The hidden changes to unscreen.
I can no longer tell myself
A candid picture of me lies.
I must accept as fact the face
I had refused to recognize..
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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