As time marches on,

reflections don’t lie.

Overripe limbs were once lithe and firm…

Age spots mark petal smooth hands…

Vanished are days of untroubled youth.

The years had flown by…

the kids were now gone.

She yearned for a life

of her own.

Looking back from the glass,

was disillusionment, hurt.

Weary eyes had seen much,

framed by hair full of snow,

skin revealing her long lonely journey…

She pondered

past loves, and thought

of lost friends, and broods over

what might have been.

Gazing into the mirror,

Would she change what is there?

Only fools would want to say yes.

Every scar, line and burn

told of wars fought and won…

Of life that was seasoned

by mishap and ache,

solace and bliss

bearing witness to years fully lived.

Michelle Close Mills ©