The Spring waters
Lie still on Twin Lakes,
Smooth and soft
Like your face.
But time is like
This stone I throw,
Causing ripples to cascade
Like wrinkles on your face.
One upon the other grows,
From your head
Down to your toes.
Lake ripples to the shoreline flow,
That's to the shoreline,
That's not fro.
Your aging wrinkles,
Like crow's feet,
Grasp and hold
'Til we're two fathoms deep.
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