I know of my feeble frame

of its graying at the edges.

I know of the hollows of my eyes

and how they stare back at me.

I know of the folds of my forehead

of the cracks in my lips

of the mop of my hair that sits, sways,

I know of these things.

These things how they

dance in my mirror

these things they will

float to the surface

and catch me in my

daydream

these things they will

be placed back in

place please

I know

of them

these things.