Has the time arrived? Is it here? <br />Must I at last believe the mirror? <br />Must I accept, must I confront my fear <br />that my reflection is no ghastly error? <br />Gazing from the cave where my soul clings <br />I see past shadowy nose the lizard folds <br />that used to be my burnished satin skin – <br />I can’t deny that I am getting old. <br /> <br />I hardly need a mirror made of glass <br />to tell me the reality, and why <br />I don’t meet ardent glances as I pass <br />and I’m invisible to passers-by. <br />But let the passers-by keep passing by – <br />my beauty is created in my lover’s eye.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/growing-pains-in-the-eye-of-the-beholder/
