My Better Side

How we long for
the face whose image in the mirror
stared back at us
thinking we were fair and lovely yet
or the other whose staring shone ourselves back to us
longingly and lovingly
the one that said how beautiful we were
then
Maybe on the inside now
hopefully
But they are no longer here to say
and we’re gray
and not so fair or lovely
My better side must be in there somewhere
But we have lines and creases
that have deepened our
ultimate meaning
hopefully
in a good way
The sands of time don’t soften outer
covers
but go a far piece to soften
how we look through things
bad perspection
This old house is falling down around my ears
but I don’t mind.