Woke up this morning
feeling the flawless sculpture
of my biceps and triceps
from yesterday's kayak
on the lake.
An illusion,
this ache of my muscles
a reminder
from my 20-something self
that she is still here
within my aging body.
Dressing,
I confront the mirror.
The 20-year old me looking out
through my eyes
at the 57-year old I have become.
The grey hair belies the stress
of a career chance selected,
or perhaps only my genetic disposition.
In the face, the remnant creases
left by my stories
of joy and sorrow.
The stomach bears scars
of childbirth.
A memento
of my most beloved creation.
And everywhere
the effect of gravity.
Not solely the downward pull
back into the earth,
but also
the solemn dignity of life.
My 20 and 50-something selves
unite and agree;
I
have the perfect body.
