Each morn I greet a brand new day
My Mirrors look at me and say
“You look the same as yesterday”
Can it be my youth won’t slip away?
I’ll always walk with a peppy gate
And hold my back and shoulders straight
Father Time will have to wait
For I’ll escape the aged’s fate
Awe, fickle mirror what’s that I see…
Tiny lines where taunt skin used to be’
Silver strands that seem to dance with glee
And mock the youth that remains in me
“It’s not so bad” these frail bones sigh”
“To face the fact one day I’ll die”
In the face of death, my heart behaves,
It’s’ peaceful balm my spirit craves…
To escape the vessel that now enslaves
-from the pen and perspective of Carol Wood/ aka Platoon Nana
