Age is such a cruel thing.
The gashes of a life time
are brought to the surface
in those beautiful wrinkles.
There are countless corrugations
on hands, legs and everywhere
and in that crooked smile
there is a dissipation of helplessness.
The memory of the first wrinkle
stays long with us.
It joins the league with
the other first times in life.
Soon time takes over and rusts the
smooth edges of the polished mirror.
The embellishments are blurred now
but the central essence is reflected off.