Age Is Endless Pages Blowing Closed

The mirror betrays, what minds portray,
each day my face denies the truth
but lines I've crafted there for years,
no longer sing the songs of youth.

Though mirrors reverse all images,
they sadly fail to reverse clocks
acceptance often is a grimace,
at skewed reflections that can shock

Age is but endless pages blowing
closed by the cruelest winds of time,
turning each chapter barely studied
into memories less defined,
the only bookmarks that can save us
are the loves we leave behind,
God will note what graced our stories,
in his book of life enshrined.

I was not one...known for perfection,
I left mistakes unedited,
some pages stained with tears and sorrow
footnotes of shame for things I did.

But the true master of creation
forgives each writer if they ask,
erasing flaws, demanding better,
we must be worthy of the task.

Age is but endless pages blowing
closed by the cruelest winds of time,
turning each chapter barely studied
into memories less defined,
the only bookmarks that can save us
are the loves we leave behind,
God will note what graced our stories,
in his book of life enshrined.

Eventually the endless friction
of daily life will take it's toll,
we'll vanish in a benediction,
that will decide what greets our soul.

We're bound by all we say and do,
that man you script.... each woman two,
must daily pray, that Judgement day,
will bring a heavenly review.

Age is but endless pages blowing
closed by the cruelest winds of time,
turning each chapter barely studied
into memories less defined,
the only bookmarks that can save us
are the loves we leave behind,
God will note what graced our stories,
in his book of life enshrined.


Art~Whimsically Yours Studio
MFB III Productions-(c)-2015