unrecognizable is the face
greeting me in the mirror.
I have dreamt a good man,
hard and sturdy and clean.
I have seen the youthfulness
in his smile and the courage
with which he holds his convictions -
the iron of his spine.
what is this soft, unkempt face
meeting my eye?
who is this gray man, lined
by time, slouched beneath the weight
of choices made and expectations met?
where is the sharp life
I expected to see in the eyes?
I see only weary sadness.
what happened to the dreamer
I knew in my youth -
and yesterday -
where is the good man
I was told was inside?
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