litrev, self-portrait
LOOK AT ME
Yes, I've matured, not aged. A soupçon less
Of hair, grey wings, a lived-in crimp or two
Under the steady eyes (still Newman-blue)...
Unless you knew my age, you'd never guess.
Good genes are priceless elixirs; they bless
Like fairy godmothers the lucky few.
Yes, I've lived as a libertine, it's true;
But facially there's no trace of excess.
At seventy pure pride, not vanity,
Supports my self-esteem. My mirror-mask,
Tempered by time, yet graven, wrinkle-free,
Adduces all that anyone could ask –
Ravageless unrestraint across the years;
Divine good looks; the envy of my peers.
Last edited by basil ransome-davies; 10-13-2010 at 03:36 AM.
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