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.
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