A free-verse poem on a morning’s moment of mine aging’s melancholia…
Manifold are the images of my self via the kaleidoscopic motion of my memoried imagination. Some, the way I’d like (love) to be. Reflecting long-ago days of the supple, unlined psychic flesh of potential untapped and possibilities yet realized.
Then there is that (the) countenance that I, by blinking cannot change. ‘Tis mine that hath come with the transpiration of time; formed in furrows of worry, wrought from the work of life’s woe…
‘Tis the one (the me) I behold, whether daring boldly to gaze full-face or askance as I, shyly, sneak a glance at the looking-glass.
© 2021 PRA
#howiwasthen #howiamnow #aging
occasional observations of mind and heart, soul and spirit 
Thank for this Paul!! When I look in the Looking Glass sometimes it’s hard to recognize myself… I love my white hair the most because it’s the fastest reminder of what I’ve endured over my almost 63 years! It also reminds me that I’ve gained some wisdom that I’m sharing with other! When I realize that, the reflection I see in the looking glass becomes much less important. I can’t even imagine the number of people’s lives you’ve touched since becoming ordained…. They’d take up a lot of room in any sanctuary!
Much love!
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Loretta, I thank you for this, your enabling/helpful word: “…I’ve gained some wisdom that I’m sharing with others! When I realize that, the reflection I see in the looking glass becomes much less important.” For you remind me of the relative insignificance of appearances, whether that of others and, in the case of my post, my own. In this re-realization, I laugh with irony at myself, for so easily do I — one who believes in the necessity of looking deeper, beyond the surface of life and of others — become enamored with the outward, visible elements of existence of the world and of others and, yes, of myself. Again, I thank you for helping me to recalibrate my focus and attention.
Love
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