I wish that I could just erase
The lines and wrinkles on my face
And also all that sagging skin
That proves which decade I am in.

When women crow, so smug with pride,
About their age, which they won’t hide,
I think, “Yeah, right! I’m really sold
On how much you like looking old!”

I won’t get face-lift surgery
And it would not be perjury
To say that Botox ain’t my thing,
Despite the smoothness it would bring.

So I will bear my aging mien,
Accepting that the senior scene
Is where, at my age, I must be,
But I’d prefer it mirror-free!