Looked once again At the face in the pane. Lines up, down, long, short. More than or…more than before. Is the mirror telling lies? Does the looking glass disguise? Beastly age upon the face Like an old and rotting carcass.
Rubbed, scrubbed clean in the tub, With Christmas near, a new New Year, It needs some makeup. Careful not to fake, I thereupon take up the day Smile away, And leave the Christmas face to stay.