Was the face he saw his?
He no longer knew,
The bits that he recognised
Seemed very few,
Between angry raised spots
And through tufts of a beard
There were glimpses of him,
Though he felt and he feared
He was no more the same person,
He’d changed as he aged
And his mind and his body
Weren’t on the same page
Could this face of a man
Be the face that belonged?
He thought of his childhood
And for those days longed.

This entry was posted in Ageing, Life Lessons, PSHE and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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