Gnarled Face Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

What is this wizened face I see
Jungle eyebrows sprawling
Eyes bulbous and staring
Nose twisted out misshapen
Cheeks bloated grotesquely
Lips puffed and cracked
Sitting there at the table, staring
Knowing your kind
Your always there sitting
Waiting
Expecting my move
Reaching for a bag, throwing it in the gaping hole
Scalding you with the boiling liquid
Grasping your face gently in my hands
Placing it to my lips
Ah Toby, my first tea of the day