Ticking Mirrors

In the glass, I trace lines that deepen,
counting wrinkles, fears that steepen.
Gray hairs fall like leaves in rot,
my youth decays, but I forgot.

Ticking behind my eyes, a clock so cruel,
every second whispers, “fool.”
I fight the sag, the soften, the fade,
in the mirror’s light, I’m afraid.

Joints ache with every move I make,
each morning’s a reminder of what’s at stake.
Moisturize to combat each crease and line,
denying time with every sign.

Birthdays pass with tears that fall,
each one louder, a somber call.
I’m not just aging; I’m turning blind,
to the life I leave behind.

Fear of aging, a silent ghost,
haunts me more than most.
As mornings come and shadows stretch,
I’m clinging to the youth I reach.