Many days I sit

And look at the bevel in the mirror

Thinking that my age

Is to share with the edge

And it’s clear

That my mere character says

Don’t let the mirror

Play into my fear

I wonder what my age

Will look like some day

And let it take away dismay

And bring with it

Comfort of sharing my

Heart with a bevel

Meeting my eye

To deceive the true colors

Of something so untouched as

My pride.


Posted by in Insightful, Life, Poetry, Time