My Face

Patrice Clarkson's Blog

Each morning now I greet a face
A stranger, I don’t remember
Back in time or space
An older woman surprises me in the mirror
Each morning, when
I wash her face.

When did she get here?
When did she arrive?
When did she replace that young girl?
Who greeted me in the mirror
As I
Washed her face.

Glad she’s here
Glad she survived and got thru
All the world put on her plate
When I think about it
I’m glad she took that young girl’s place
The one who used to
Wash my face.
~ Patrice

© Patrice Clarkson – 2015

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