this mirror is honest,
his forehead, taut and tanned,
has nudged backward his hairline;
eyes staring at eyes, he notes
where humor once twinkled,
there unspeakable sadness now resides;
he surveys in his mind
long, lengthening yesterdays,
accumulated memories,
some vivid, others faded,
some fond, others rueful,
some clustered, others cluttered;
tough job to sort them out,
piecing the pieces together
to form some coherent patterns
out of reflected reflections,
sober intimations of nothingness,
honest this mirror is.
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