Just this morning, I was thinking

as I once more saw the wrinkling

at the corners of my eyes

that betray my best self-lies,

that I must admit, it rankles

though I know I should be thankful

that there still remain some snatches

untrammeled by crosspatches.

But these lines, not horizontals,

not the kind your husband fondles

fondly, drag my cheeks to meet

just slightly upwards of my feet.

You may gather, if you care,

that there’s humor in despair

when you’re helpless to defy it,

sneak around it or deny it …

But I still hope if I cream

before each and every dream

I’ll bring back a former me

of perhaps just seventy-three!



6 thoughts on “Wrinkle

  1. Ellen, I love this poem! I can just see you smiling as you wrote it and adding an extra special curve to the wrinkles you’ve earned over the years.


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