My hands

 

my-hands

I look at my hands
and I see
the signs of age
I look in the mirror
and see that nothing
there has changed
except perhaps
my eyes
they have become
the Don Juan
of my soul
liars
that tell me
I am really
not that old
but a shadow
of Byron’s dream
seduced slowly
and still
waiting for the
17th canto
to unfold
no this is
really me
just afraid
of growing old

© Fingleton (Octobre 2016) (Löst Viking)
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Löst-Viking/746104845419195

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