On Reflection
Posted: Sat Nov 10, 2012 2:26 pm
On Reflection
I look in the mirror and what do I see?
An old lady standing there, staring at me.
Well, it's got to be me, but it isn't fair!
That can't be my face reflected there
with sagging jowls and double chin,
with limp grey hair and wrinkled skin;
the lips sewn like a buttonhole
and a whisker sprouting from a mole!
That isn't my body, all shapeless and slack,
with sloping shoulders and rounded back?
They can't be my legs with dark, knotty veins,
feet bulging with bunions and toes curled with pain?
And those hands are wizened and spotted with brown,
the fingers bent from the last knuckle down.
And I notice I'm wearing old women's clothes -
I didn't think I had any of those.
And then, I think, "Count your blessings, my girl -
Before the swine you're casting that pearl!"
So I close my eyes and seek deep inside
to find the person behind the false pride,
and I say to myself, "Who cares how you look?
Don't be so vain, you silly old chook!
Your family loves you, you still have your health;
you're judging your looks as reflecting your self".
So, it's no good imagining the person 'they' see
is the woman I'd like still to be me -
confident, savvy, with instant recall
and ageless, smooth, not wrinkled at all;
a woman who still has impeccable taste -
a woman who still has a perceptible waist!
Then I open my eyes and see she's still there -
that same old lady with grey, wispy hair.
Marion Tremlett
November 2012
I look in the mirror and what do I see?
An old lady standing there, staring at me.
Well, it's got to be me, but it isn't fair!
That can't be my face reflected there
with sagging jowls and double chin,
with limp grey hair and wrinkled skin;
the lips sewn like a buttonhole
and a whisker sprouting from a mole!
That isn't my body, all shapeless and slack,
with sloping shoulders and rounded back?
They can't be my legs with dark, knotty veins,
feet bulging with bunions and toes curled with pain?
And those hands are wizened and spotted with brown,
the fingers bent from the last knuckle down.
And I notice I'm wearing old women's clothes -
I didn't think I had any of those.
And then, I think, "Count your blessings, my girl -
Before the swine you're casting that pearl!"
So I close my eyes and seek deep inside
to find the person behind the false pride,
and I say to myself, "Who cares how you look?
Don't be so vain, you silly old chook!
Your family loves you, you still have your health;
you're judging your looks as reflecting your self".
So, it's no good imagining the person 'they' see
is the woman I'd like still to be me -
confident, savvy, with instant recall
and ageless, smooth, not wrinkled at all;
a woman who still has impeccable taste -
a woman who still has a perceptible waist!
Then I open my eyes and see she's still there -
that same old lady with grey, wispy hair.
Marion Tremlett
November 2012
