Today I saw myself in the mirror;
One of those rare moments of clarity.
I'd cleaned that mirror so good,
I could almost see into my future!
Oh, how the years have caught on,
My face is weathered like the cricket bat,
My children play with.
My hair sports few flecks of grey,
My cheeks just a tiny bit fat.
There's a few wrinkles coming on;
My eyes are adorned by tiny birds feet,
There's a little crease outlined with powder,
Where my nose and cheeks meet.
The left cheek just a little misshapen;
From all those years ago.
When we didn't have these children,
And the cricket bat accidentally swung low,
and rammed into my cheek.
That hurt.
But today, it's just a minor dent,
In an otherwise motherly kind of beautiful face.
That cinch in my eyebrow,
He said it made me look badass,
When he was nursing it.
Maybe from the glass that I fell on face first.
Those stitches left marks.
But he's right, maybe I do look cool.
There's that chip on my shoulder,
From the time he held me so close,
He told me he loves me then,
It was beautiful.
Man! That metal plate sure makes my kids laugh,
When they play with magnets.
It makes me a little stiff,
But, he likes stiff collarbones.
There's no one around,
So I strip down to see my back.
How I loved to show it off not so long ago!
Glistening plain flesh.
But, since; those welts really went deep.
Glancing at it brings back memory of pain.
Lines crisscrossing my back,
But he's right, it's better when it's just for us to see,
Like our own personal brand.
I cover up quickly.
Almost sheepish guilty look on my face.
I laugh at that expression.
It's just You, Silly!
This beautiful body has been through a lot,
Many marks to illustrate my story.
But, sometimes, when I look in the mirror,
I wish I'd see the whole me.
Parts are what make the whole,
Hole.
I touch the back of my head.
That dent from the time I tripped onto the door handle,
His palm was right there in front of me;
But it was balled into a fist.
What bothers me is that the hair never grew back there.
Oh, foolish me!
Reminiscing about myself,
While being me.
You're so beautiful, stupid.
Everything is beautiful.
I smile and she smiles back, crooked.
The mirror distorts my reality;
Or does the reality distort my vision?
Maybe there should be a little smudge on the mirror;
This clarity brings to life too many flaws.
Reaching over, I run my work-cloth over the mirror;
Water dripping,
The reality becomes more evident in the overflowing streams of lucidity.
There's almost a blinding clarity,
I cannot ignore the scars anymore.
Let's see what marks the cricket bat leaves on this mirror.
I take a good swing, stance like his,
But this time it's me wielding the strength.
CRASH!
Oh! the mirror's broken.
It isn't nearly as fun if it breaks.
Should clear up the pieces before they find their way;
Into battered but unbroken things.
Now my breath's a little smoother;
No reflection of reality remains.
A little happier, I go back to my life.
