The Mystery of Me
Racing around looking high and low for
That younger version with skin so smooth, and
Energy bounding with every move.
Passing the mirror with just a brief glance,
It appears it may only be her by chance.
I see a face covered with oldness. Could not be her,
I uttered with boldness.
I'm sure she looks younger with just character lines,
Not skin etched deeply like a sculpted mine,
Once carved for diamonds, copper or coal.
Surely her wisdom's engraved on her soul.
I need to find her, for she is part of me. Back to the mirror
Taking a good long look;
The image there is like an old book with
Well-worn creases designing the picture;
Yet skin like satin softened the mixture.
A face engraved sweetly with kindness to savor,
Smile crinkles complimenting for more perfect flavor.
I gaze into her eyes seeming still as young. as a child's,
Itching with joy for songs yet unsung. I see that happiness and
gasp with glee that the vision there is thankfully me!
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