age is an illusion

There is a woman
who stalks me
her hair is long and auburn
and each morning
when I turn on the bathroom light
she is there
waiting in the mirror
with her startled face

for the past few years
she has appeared
scrutinizing every line and wrinkled crease
pointing out flaws
leaving her subliminal message
scratched upon
my age defying makup
"delicately worn it says"

she leaves no privacy
to morning rituals
and has become a brazen voyeur
in my secret place
her eager eyes
peel away my gown
leaving my soul naked
stripped of self esteem

Now an accustomed routine
she and I
for a few minutes each day
play this game
for I have found out her secret
age is only an illusion
if you turn on the lights
and look into the liar's mirror

poetrybykassanna
kassanna's poetic dreams
(Deborah M. Carter)
copyright:2003