Weathered Face

My child, look not upon this weathered face nor these lines now deeply etched by time with eyes that look away in mild disgust from the death of that once fair and smooth now but a fleeting glimpse of prouder days once full of pride and youthful arrogance Look closer and yet closer still my child for there is much more to see than scars that offend the casual and impatient eye for each deep crease a hard lesson holds learned not easily in times of bitter strife upon the field of lifes’ indifferent stage Beyond this worn and tired mask my child lie precious secrets that are there to share with those that pause and look beyond the flesh for wisdom earned not cheaply to be sure in long battles now but distant memories but burned by time into the deepest soul Of these things they speak to you dear one the lines cry out to you for true audience you but need to listen for a little while to history unfold before your roving eyes but the moment fades I see that you will go more is the pity then for the teacher and the child.