Who is the man who looks back at me?
the image that I see?
I look a little closer, ***, that's me!
My hair is receding quickly,
there's a bald spot up on top;
at my age, I can't grow a new crop.
The eyes take a while to get brighter -
the small goatee is gray or it's white;
there's a haggard look at dawn,
depending upon the light.
I rise from my bed with slowness,
sit on the side for a bit;
behind the window's curtain,
the morning's becoming lit.
I walk with a cane and a flashlight,
in the bathroom I hit the switch;
the light is suddenly brighter,
my God- old life's a *****.
It takes me some time to get going,
two cups of coffee drunk slow;
I stretch out my legs at the sink,
by God now, I'm ready to go.
I grab Jax's leash from the wall,
he's prancing and all ready to go;
I grab my hat and sunglasses,
we exit -  and go with the flow.