Poem of the Month: March 2010

I see my age etched in the other’s face,
We have the furrow in our forehead here,
I see the lines my mother had, the lace
Whose pattern deepened with every year.
I see the brackets of my father’s frown
And frailty in the quiver of his hand,
The body beginning to let him down,
The brown marks on his skin like grains of sand.
I look closer, see traces everywhere,
Of a tottering empire, crumbling slow,
This a domain of which he took such care,
And this was his palace now brought so low.
The mirror lends back my own face to me,
I find secrets there I’d not thought to see.

© James Nash 2009