Am I old yet?
Ask the mirror she's not kind
She will not lie
Unless the light is shrouded
At the time of day when dusk arrives.
Ask the child with probing fingers
Touching lines upon my face,
Whilst hers is smooth, unlined, unspoilt
Like mine not many years ago.
Am I old yet?
Ask youth who's fled too soon
For me, for all who drown in their distress,
Knowing they are less to those who view
Their crumbling form and slackened skin.
Unworthy, now our youth has gone
To be admired, to be desired.
Outside faded, inside young but powerless.
Our bodies now defiled by age.
Am I old yet?
Ask the camera, she can change
What's in her sights, and make it more,
Or less, or changed beyond belief,
Or rob the image like a thief.
She can't see the honesty within
The likeness she surveys.
As far as she's concerned,
Only surface plays upon life's stage.
Am I old yet?
How will I know, I feel the same inside
But look ........ this stranger
In the mirror, an older relative
Who wears my clothes and lives my life,
Whose body behaves in unusual ways
And is weak. I am old , yet I'm ageless
In my exploration of this gift of life,
Strife can't defeat me I'm not beaten .......... yet
