Furrows

The lines furrow deeply on my face
and go to a destination unknown.
​The lines of sorrow have significantly grown
because life’s challenges piled on.
There is nothing to smooth them out,
to make the furrows gone.
Then there are those happy lines
from times that brighten my smile.
They used to come frequently
but now, only once in a long while.
There should be more of them
but regrettably there’s not.
Some of my happiest times
unfortunately, I’ve forgot.
Then there are those other lines
random ones, that complete my facial map.
These furrows are a pattern
that every morning surprise me.
A man much older than I am
in the mirror, is the man I now see.
As I look back anxiously
my youthful skin is gone.
It slipped away as the years passed by
and the hollows piled on.
But every line has a story
that can be proudly told.
I hope to reflect on all of them
before I get too old.
When I was a young man
the mirror was very kind.
I used to stare at myself quite a bit,
I thought I looked divine.
I am an older man, older by many years
and my face now shows the map of my life,
my hopes, my loves, my tears.
It may look like a quagmire scaled to the nines,
 but as I look back over all my years,
 I think that that’s just fine.