Reflection

Look in the mirror.

Who is that weathered, old man

staring back at me?

When did this happen,

Life replacing youthfulness

with experience?

Do others see me

as an aged progression

of who I was then?

Or as the version

I have now morphed into,

an antique vessel.

But mirrors don’t lie.

They just show the reflection

of a true image.

So, if I embrace:

“Who I am, not who I was,”

then there’s acceptance.

That gives this old man,

the one with weathered features,

permission to smile.