Ageless

“You’ve aged so well”, that’s what they say.

Not a wrinkle, fine line, or sign of decay.

Never-dyed hair, as black as the night,

Years until grey or white are in sight.

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You look the same,

That smile so wide.

Fire aflame,

In your shining bright eyes.

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Still fit, still fun.

Unlike us, you’ve outrun -

The spinning wheel of time,

Its blade far behind.

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I wonder, is it so?

Do my years not show?

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I look into the pane;

My reflection thin.

The luggage of time,

Weighing heavily within.

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There in the sun – my smile on the glass.

As if never a trial, nothing vile has amassed.

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But with dusk rises a flame.

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Expect no brigade.

By the window, by night.

My mask starts to fade,

The truth is in sight.

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The fine lines appear.

The wrinkles severe.

The decay of the years.

The rapids of tears.

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They do not cease.

They fill every crease.

The façade is released.

The rifts are diseased.

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With black hair aflame,

Only white ash remains.

The flames at my back,

Carving deeper the cracks.

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I run, I claw –

Up the rifts as they saw –

And the blade of time cuts deeper.

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Until -

Finally -

Daylight breaks.

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Eyes open now,

I smile in the pane –

Like a fine wine,

Bottled, maintained.

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Fit from the miles,

Circling darkened sundials.

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It's a timeless finesse,

To be so ageless.