The Mirror this Morning by Harry Calhoun

I look in the mirror this morning
and I just face it: I don’t want to grow old
and die. I just don’t want it, my love,

this journey has been so much
struggle and triumph and sheer endurance
and pain that to lose it seems unfair

if not downright mean. I turn to you now.
Take my hand, I feel like a child
about to catch the schoolbus. I’m too big

to cry but I’ll always be too young to die,
and I’ll never want to leave you, stuck
as I am in this world that call me old,

these mirrors that lie to me,
these kids that hold the door for me
and insist on calling me “sir.”


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