There under the roll of flesh
is the tight waist
neath the knuckles now faintly
puckered the smooth plump skin
On corneas slightly altered
the imprint of infants smiles
and last breaths, turquoise seas
and storms, of snow of rain of
the heart, of all that has had been
and is currently unfolding there
in the eyes that smile with a
more a more muted sparkle
the me that is I in there
under the body that formerly
presented itself in a more
tightly, pretty package
no longer are are the edges
knife creased, no longer
is the bow perky and upright
some say this is wisdom not
a funk...
I look for the self that
survives beyond the flesh
that becomes more unfamiliar
strive to let go and hold on
and feel the sparkle
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