I'm living in the midday of my life.
The textures have all changed,
edges blurring from the careless
hand of time, a sloppy paintbrush
on the angles of my face, my form;
the stranger in the mirror
does not show the sparkle
burning in my spirit,
deep inside, untouched,
untainted by the waters
flowing deep beneath the bridges
I have crossed to get to here.
The subtle darkness in my hair
is overwhelmed by silver,
I have been crowned in moonlight
where darkest night once ruled;
as eyes that rival
limpid woodland pools,
a smoky peat all shot with gold,
are hidden under glass. So changed
still yet unchanging. I sit and wonder
where have I gone, when did I go away?
When did the “snap, pop, crackle”
in my joints become a stab of pain?
When did my fine young fury
become a gentle smile
just like those of adults
who did not understand?
The answer dances just ahead
of where I stand today and yet
it is not sadness makes me cry
it is the times I did not say
I love you. I shall no longer
waste my hours looking in the corners,
at the ground, instead of reaching
for the stars that are my birthright;
I shall stretch, shall set those joints
to creaking, embracing life and love
and living in my midday
with all my wild young heart.
This is great! So descriptive of life's natural changes. Thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i know exactly what you mean, i am still so young inside but wonder who that fading image in the mirror belongs to! jane s