Reflections

The other day, I happened by chance,
As I passed a mirror, to give it a glance
And I wondered who that old man could be,
Who, with his mouth wide open, was looking at me.

His bald head was sprinkled with a little grey fuzz,
And he wasn't at all handsome (like I always was)
He looked like a sack of mismated parts,
Put together without aid of instructions or charts.

And while I know that my shoulders don't slump,
This person's were misshapen in one ugly hump'
Now, if that was my image, I only can say,
They don't make mirrors like they did in my day.

Lucy Blades
Email: LBlades595@aol.com