The Mirror

 I looked in the mirror this morning
As I faithfully do every morning
But today I paused a while longer
I made contorted faces at myself
Examining every line and wrinkle
Like a cheap TV show detective
The bags under my eyes seemed greyer
They seemed heavier, denoting
A lack of quality sleep time
Both eyes were bloodshot
Like the eyes of a practicing
Alcoholic not needing practice
I had not touched a drop
My bald head seemed shinier
I wondered if rubbing it with sand
Would be of much help
Four days worth of stubble
Gave me that down and out look
I noticed my eyebrows and ears
Both being hairier than they should be
Why is it when you get older
You develop hairy caterpillar eyebrows
And tuffty fox hair in your ears
I took on final lingering look
Remembering more handsome times
Seeing my current beat up fizog
‘I hate getting old, looking old’
Mainly because there is nothing you can do
To prevent what time has in store for you
Short of much bottox or plastic surgery
Still I’d rather look my age than become
Like one of those celebrity circus clowns
The lines on my face tell the story
Of who I was and who I am
A poem of what I’ve been through
A song of where I’m going
The mirror differs from us
It never lies
Only we do that