I leaned back in my chair and stared at the screen of my laptop. When the screensaver came on I could see my reflection and it occurred to me that the person in that reflection was not the same person that lived inside the reality.

There's a different me inside

not the one with the wrinkled hide.

Not the one with aches and pains

that this old body still retains,

but a youthful self that believes he's seen

as someone of age around nineteen.

Bright and brash with the clever quip

always ready at his fingertip.

Yet something's not how it should be,

the slowing speed, the harder to see.

He still dances with rhythm to spare;

it just doesn't look right without the hair.

Why can't this old body take a seat

and let him out where folks can meet

the he I used to be... oh, oh, now I see,

the operative phrase is 'used to be'.

The me today is reflected in my screen

still flogging my inner self's routine.

So acceptance it will have to be

for both my inner self and me;

face the fact that years have past

and youthful games can't always last.

We've lived a lot, reached another stage -

still enjoy my inner self - but act my age.

So next time a comment of mine appears

and it sounds like it's below my years,

it's 'cause I cut my inner self some slack

while I rest my old arthritic back.