The blank canvas of life lay before all to see,
To be painted by the winds of life.
The twists and turns will create creases and wrinkles.
The torments, the happiness to come all will have
lengthened my days, never once letting
up, and constant in all ways.
Covering the canvas from head to toe, or is it top
to bottom? Which, I'll never know.
Trees will grow, giving shadow with leaves fluttering in the wind;
the quiet of morning time in this world of fog
and rain causes one to wake slowly, eyes
The mirror over there, it hides nothing. Where once stood
a youth full of life, brimming with energy full of excitement, now
all I see is dimmed by age and the need for glasses.