Standing before the mirror at twenty-five
he furrowed and unfurrowed his smooth, flawless brow.
"If my forehead had lines," he thought to himself,
"I would appear more wise and people will treat me with more respect."
He laughed heartily at the mirror,
carefully examining the edges of his eyes.
"With laugh lines people will know
my sense of humor is rich
and will perceive me a joy to be around,"
he said leaning in for a closer look,
cursing his baby skin and wishing he looked older.
Now well into his fifties,
he gazes at his stoic reflection
daring not to move a muscle
for fear yet another line
may crease his aging appearance.
His face relaxed
in an effort to halt the aging process,
keep wrinkles at bay
and recapture a fleeting youth.
He pines for the days
when his face was smooth
and his eyes were not perched on fleshy pillows.
When the only wrinkles he wore
were on his clothing
and hadn't migrated to his face.