Although Sundays are not going to become Stan Rogers day, here is another.
I’ve been seeing the wrinkles on my face progressing over the last few years, in a way that is becoming less forgiving every year. It used to mean that I was stressed, or dehydrated, but they are becoming my everyday companion. Here is my first draft/quickie on the subject from last night.
The Daily News
Yesterday is on my face this morning
The furrowed brow of
that line between the brows that
sparks worry and
Forehead lines of eyebrows raised:
Am I that often
but somehow looking
Doesn’t look like me.
He reaches out for the
“Crinkles, ” he smiles.
And I smile back,
penning a better story
For tomorrow’s edition.
And Stan’s beautiful song about aging and true love: (it still makes me cry)