A gossamer trace on the smooth brow of youth
Marks you down as mortal
When barely at full strength.
That first bittersweet pang – it’s just the start!
As time’s spider reels you in
Binding ever tighter, age upon age.

Now deep fissures on my face
Show to all the very trace
Of times now past, a life once lived.
Ten thousand days and more
Have etched ever deeper those slight lines
And ploughed my brow with furrows
That now are deep as canyons
Eroded by ten thousand suns.

Found a wife, found my life,
Raised two children, gone in a trice.
Greyed my hair and grizzled beard
Turtled eyes look back in tears
Of self-pity? If so, why?
Give thanks I'm old before I die.