Old Age

I saw him staring at me
and I wondered what he saw.
Was it the days of long ago
or was he seeing what he saw.
Was he staring at my hair
turning a lovely shade of dull brown gray.
Or maybe it was my eyes of faded green
that weep from severe dry eye all damn day.
Or could it be that small spare tire
I proudly wear around my waist
never disappearing
just adding to my lovely rectangle shape.
Or possibly he's wondering
why I am looking back at him.
Are the same unappealing thoughts
running through his hairless head?
Hmm, maybe I should just ask him.
But do I really care?
I think I'll just let it go
so what if he wants to stare.