Will I go white
or bald. Sickly skinny
or obese. Maybe a round belly,
jolly enough and symmetrically round.

Sagging muscles and blotted skin
could that, more so, be the case.
As wrinkles become the norm
and my face begets new folds

will I remember my reflection
as it was, or instead
how the mirror reflects. Passions
hopefully stay lit and burn

still and bright in my heart
and soul and my mind still
recalling youth as a moment, brief,
but beautiful and flickering,

keeping warm past lives. And grandchildren,
children and those friendships
still gracing existence allow the beams
sprouting light out from memory

and joy to be absorbed wholly
within their pours. In doing so
I'll know that the folds in my dying skin
and thin strands of hair meant life
and spirit and so I won't mind

when those days come.