Mirrors cannot reflect the inner eye’s ageless vision
of unscarred body and auburn hair of my twentysomethings I still see when I see “me”.
Old eyes look instead to corner creases of fading blue that have seen too much
to scarred heart and chest
and the short salt and pepper hair
reflecting back at me, so ordinary.

And if I am that nondescript and middle aged nurse that others see

what happened on this journey.
I thought by now I would know more
be more
understand more.
Thought I would have a at least one tap-root, or maybe two
and someone sleeping next to me
who knew just how to toast my bread and how I took my coffee.

so unexpected
life.

CC