With sleepy eyes I looked in to the
looking glass and could barely see
a stranger looking back at me.
With no brow hair in place
only a rim of gray hair to brim his face.
Father time has put a roadmap
upon his face a hollow here and
there and his are just a stare. Putting on my glasses I can
clearly see it is a reflection of
its real me. Father time has taken it's toll.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem