The Old Hack

The old hack he'd grown into  
thinning hair
occupation part-time miserable    
and soon to wear glasses for the first time    
told himself
the mirror was now too great a shock to bear  
Maybe it was a jolt
he would never be ready for again  
The old hack told himself from this day on
he may as well not bother visiting at all  
unless there was a drama
like some naughty speck of dust  
or a stubborn lash wedged in the iris  
So he laughed at one less thing to clean  
But it wasn't funny really    
because occasionally
he used to like what he saw  
There was a time in his teens  
when he even admired his own reflection  
Perhaps this was the moment  
to begin to look within  
learning to smile gracefully  
ignoring the lines as they multiply  
The old hack had nothing to say about that
Catching the world in words  
then writing it out warts and all  
wasn't that where the magic lay now  
allowing mystery to flow from the soul  
seamlessly accepting time's embrace  
even if you don't like what you see  
and most especially  
when the mirror's dead and buried  
cracked and frowning  
like a monster in the bin