When I look at pictures of myself I wonder, "When did I grow so old?" As I was sifting through some poems, this one felt appropriate to my state of mind. You may have seen it before.
Laugh Lines and Crazing
Facial creams and time machines
fail me, but in the mirror
my mind takes up the slack,
possesses the knack
of air-brushing contours.
Not until I view photos of myself
or glimpse my reflection aslant
does an image of a frayed
interloper ambush me,
like a replay of Dorian Gray.
But no deal with the devil exists,
I retain only my smile as antidote.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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