Change

The face I see before me stares back watchful and intent
In those eyes I see secrets kept and stories already conveyed
On those lips lie anticipation, trepidation too
Demonstrated upon that brow, fissures of care and worry are etched

I accepted my childhood had long gone
I was not ready for my adolescence’s escape
I am no where near ready for youth’s cessation
The middle years have come to embrace

The mirror never lies, I am no longer young
Stung by this revelation, I balk in denial
This moment had to come, but I am not ready to lose my illusions
My innocence of youth has washed away with eroding experience

I look for signs of immaturity, reckless abandon
Seeking idioms to youths supplication
Where are the margins of the ancient, where are the drapes to youth
My critical eye scans with perception and spies just a faint trace

Formed by times caress and molestation
This chimera that we never age
I try to validate my malleable countenance
As my life passes I hope into an even richer stage

Sam Rix