If Only You Could See

If Only You Could See

You may think I'm sitting here,
lost in the ruins of old age —
forgotten stories etched on skin
that's wrinkled as a crumpled page.
My gnarled fingers smear Bengay
on frail, brown-spotted hands,
and I've a crown of snowy white
beneath these faded Clairol strands.

Yes, you may think I've failed in my
quest for the fountain of youth —
with back bent like a weathered tree
and limbs so stiff they barely move.
But you'd be wrong, for as I've aged,
I've discovered a thing or two —
each breath we take, each moment lived,
is quickly snatched by time, it's true,
but given back in memories
and stored within us 'til life's through.

If only you could see inside —
beyond this shaky, gnarled old tree,
beneath my sagging, mortal flesh,
you'd see there thrives a younger me.
Behind these age-worn eyes, I'm free
to wander back and dwell among
the scores of timeless memories,
where I can be forever young.

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