the x's on the black board
are the marks of experience
erased as the class empties
the board is nearly a blank slate again
but with faint traces of a previous life
the touch of many hands
leaves an indelible mark
the board would recollect its many roles
at the end of each day if it could
impartial to its use but glad to be free
my face is marked more permanently
frown lines now bearing down on my mouth
from both sides and above
the blue and purple bags under my eyes
store the sights that I failed to act on
I am aging
falling from the peak
whenever that was