Before your eyes, here I stand,

The outer shell projects an older man.

If you could look inside, you would see

A younger, happy person, trying to be.

You’re young outside, while outside I’m old.

Your years are in metamorphosis; my years are gold.

These lines you see etched in my face

Are but a war map of life as I’ve run my race.

Your years are in front of you; mine are behind.

Who’s better off? It’s all in the mind.

You’re entangled in cell phones and Facebook, an electronic age,

Leaving no time for wise words of a sage.

Like Lemmings by the millions rushing to the sea,

You Tweet and text, playing games on Xbox and TV.

Your life will slide by unnoticed by you.

You’ll wonder where it went, just like I do.

Yes, your face will wrinkle and your hair will turn grey.

You’ll be amazed at the image your mirror portrays.

How was your life? Was it well-lived?

Did you prosper and marry? Did you forgive?

What did you accomplish? What have you to show?

What will you leave behind when it’s time to go?

In my twilight years, I wait to become and to be.

When you look at me, honestly, what do you see?