In the mirror I'm shocked to see
An old man stares back at me.
Hair sparse White and thin
Covers tired Pallid skin.
Light leaving old eyes
Staring back with sad surprise.
Youth is spent as life grows dim
I turn away rejecting him
Fumbling in an old man's room
Lifting blinds to banish gloom.
Stub my toe. Silent yell
Leaves my lips' Ruddy hell'
In your wildest dream you say
Never thought you would see the day....
'4 score years and three
Happy birthday to me'
I, Bri, rue (aka regret) the day that I too may be 'forced' to say: 'mirror, mirror, on the wall, WHO is fairest of them all? ' AND responding the mirror does say: 'Bri, YOU are NOT the fairest. It's fair to say! '
'Hair sparse' AND hair 'thin' are, for sure, about the same. Perhaps in your ADVANCED AGE, you, Spanner, are getting language-lame! ! bri : )
'4 score years and three'? ! nearly old as a Redwood tree! ! ! ! Kim Barney told me a bit 'bout you, but not that you look like an old tired shoe! ! Happy Birthday to YOU! ! bri ;)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
five (5) stars ***** descend upon your poem fine, and you, the poet, are not allowed to decline (them) . bri : )