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Silver Fur
Standing bare chested in the bathroom floor
Shaving my face, looking intently into my own eyes.
Memories dance from my past, I feel so young again;
Yet reality closes in on this fantasy of youthfulness.
Drawing my attention is the silver fur lining my face,
The hair remaining on my head, the fuzz on my chin.
Even the hair sprouting out my ears shouts that I am old!
Grey and silvers combine on my dense hair on my chest.
No longer am I a young adult, no longer am I in my prime;
Yet I can reach out and embrace my age with dignity.
I am hard bodied still, but crows feet surround my eyes;
Looking with honesty, I can say, “ Not too bad, Fred.”
I can carry my self with grace from my yoga practice;
I can strut my stuff with the firmness of iron workouts.
I can run with the young bucks with my cardio efforts;
I can create from the fires of my soul with my poetry.
Silver fur highlights my body today, but I stand proud.
I am 57 years old, not a day younger, not a moment gone.
Every second of the sands of time has created this Fred,
With honor, I battle complacency in my life, which is death.
Victories are won each day that I live in the moment of now.
Not wishing for that long ago past when it was springtime;
When my life had more miles ahead on its road than in my past.
Looking in the mirror, I love the silver fur that is now my mane.
19Apr09
Looking in the mirror on my birthday
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
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