My wrinkles hold many memories tucked between their folds,
to be buried with me.
Today, I look into the mirror,
proud of each scar I carry, each joy I experienced.
As the moonlight casts its lambent glow,
I smile, celebrating my journey of life.
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Now, at the fag end of life,
home alone, in an empty nest,
I wrestle with my waning memory, fogged under
receding hairline and furrowed brow.
Misplacing things, is a daily affair,
forgetfulness, my constant companion.
Simple tasks seem daunting,
what I did in a jiffy, now takes ages.
Today, the mirror reflects my withered shell,
but beneath it, I am still a beautiful soul.
As I glance back at the rear view mirror of life,
I have realized that, it is futile confronting the loss of youth.
In graceful acceptance of old age, with all its quirkiness,
lies the key to happiness!
radhikasreflection 