Reflection

The young man looks in the mirror.
An old man looks back
With tired eyes that weren't there yesterday.
He plucks a stray grey chest hair,
Measuring himself against an idea and
Friends he doesn't see anymore.
I have more hair than they do, he thinks,
Darker,
Flatter gut,
Face still young.
He doesn't feel as ancient as them
But guesses they must feel the same.
They envy me.
He turns his face in the mirror,
Considers the years,
Things left undone,
Abandoned,
Failures.
He sighs,
No worries,
Brushes his teeth in concert with the
The stranger,
The shadow,
The constant
In the mirror.

© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2012