Sifting through the old dusty attic,
Cleaning away the years of filth and dirt that had settled,
Reminiscing about the odd bits and bobbles I find.
I pick up a pair of glamorous sunglasses,
Inlaid with rhinestones
Sitting next to a photograph of me
Wearing these sunglasses.
I wipe them clean and put them on.
I turn to admire myself in the mirror.
Though it is caked in grime I can see myself perfectly.
I still look just as I did when I took that picture
Out of the corner of my eye I see a fur coat and pick it up
It’s the same one I’m wearing in the picture
Putting it on I turn to view myself once more,
Ignoring the dust clouds that puff out of the dry fur as I move.
I run my dust cloth down the mirror
I want to see better.
I position myself as I was in the picture.
Hands on my hips.
I realized I had gained some weight since then.
Chin up.
And there was now a slight sag in the skin beneath my neck.
With a big white grin.
And cigarettes had stained my teeth yellow.
That crease in my forehead had always been there.
Those crows’ feet beside my eyes are from smiling.
I look at the picture once more.
The woman who stares back is youthful and confident.
Lips colored bright red.
Hair dyed platinum blond.
Dressed as though she wanted to impress the whole world.
I look back into the mirror.
The woman I see is not the young fame-seeking starlet.
She’s an older woman, past her prime.
Whose face is riddled with wrinkles.
Looking pathetic in cheep broken sunglasses
And a molding, moth eaten, fur coat.
I take off the sunglasses
And place them beside the picture once more.
I return the coat to its heap of clothes in the corner.
Now I’m once more sifting through the old dusty attic,
Cleaning away the years of filth and dirt that had settled,
Throwing out the odd bits and bobbles
That had seemed meaningful once,
But I can’t remember why they were important anymore.
Cleaning away the years of filth and dirt that had settled,
Reminiscing about the odd bits and bobbles I find.
I pick up a pair of glamorous sunglasses,
Inlaid with rhinestones
Sitting next to a photograph of me
Wearing these sunglasses.
I wipe them clean and put them on.
I turn to admire myself in the mirror.
Though it is caked in grime I can see myself perfectly.
I still look just as I did when I took that picture
Out of the corner of my eye I see a fur coat and pick it up
It’s the same one I’m wearing in the picture
Putting it on I turn to view myself once more,
Ignoring the dust clouds that puff out of the dry fur as I move.
I run my dust cloth down the mirror
I want to see better.
I position myself as I was in the picture.
Hands on my hips.
I realized I had gained some weight since then.
Chin up.
And there was now a slight sag in the skin beneath my neck.
With a big white grin.
And cigarettes had stained my teeth yellow.
That crease in my forehead had always been there.
Those crows’ feet beside my eyes are from smiling.
I look at the picture once more.
The woman who stares back is youthful and confident.
Lips colored bright red.
Hair dyed platinum blond.
Dressed as though she wanted to impress the whole world.
I look back into the mirror.
The woman I see is not the young fame-seeking starlet.
She’s an older woman, past her prime.
Whose face is riddled with wrinkles.
Looking pathetic in cheep broken sunglasses
And a molding, moth eaten, fur coat.
I take off the sunglasses
And place them beside the picture once more.
I return the coat to its heap of clothes in the corner.
Now I’m once more sifting through the old dusty attic,
Cleaning away the years of filth and dirt that had settled,
Throwing out the odd bits and bobbles
That had seemed meaningful once,
But I can’t remember why they were important anymore.
