an old woman resides in my mirror
I see her every day here
I know she's old
because her hair is fading
from brown to gray to white

her eyes once danced to youthful frivolities
and midlife delicacies
of the flesh;
those bright blue twinkles
now replaced
by pain struck depth of black;

some fears not yet experienced
but will arrive too soon
maybe tomorrow
or the tomorrow after that
some from the past but ghosts still haunting,

a hint of exasperation
and sadness,
tired determination
complete the picture of the eyes

once full lips becoming thinner year by year . . .
. . . to where do they disappear?

corners of the mouth
which once turned up in gleeful presentation
are now deeply etched into a downward spiral

the jowls have sagged much like the belly
and all those wrinkles that weren't there yesterday,
are shocking to see today

above the upper lip and underneath the chin
a mustache and goatee' fight to the end
for a place
on this face
it's quite a race
who will win?

but the most disturbing of all
is that loose turkey skin-flap
under the chin
on the front of your neck;
don't ever shake your head
because that loose skin will shake with you
and gobble, gobble, gobble,
you'll look like a turkey running from the hatchet

is this woman in your mirror, too?