She stands before the bathroom mirror Creating several different faces Tryng to find the one that doesn’t Make her look so tired and old.
Some of them make her look ill A couple more look silly. The one she finally settles on: A wan and disappointed smile -
Accepted as least ugly of the bunch It’s not the face she’d hoped to wear In this the Autumn of her life. She expected some small trace Of former beauty to remain.
She tried to make a little sparkle To liven up her somber eyes And find the muscle in her cheek That lifts her lips into a grin.
A sorry rictus of despair Was all that effort brought her So she gave up and threw the switch And slipped away in darkness ljm
I remember seeing my mother standing in front of the mirror trying different ways of smiling and holding her face. She wasn't happy about growing older. Hey...neither am I.