Self-Portrait 2/12/11

What do I see in the looking glass there?
Where once was a boy with dirty blonde hair,
Now stands a young man, his face lined with care.

As I stare deeply into those sunken brown eyes,
I see into his soul, and I realize,
Therein, despite all of his worries, a happines lies.

Though his hands may be calloused, his back may be bent,
His bills are all paid, his money's all spent,
But it was worth every penny if you knew where he went.

He won't ever be rich, yet will never be poor,
Since he knows that wealth seems to mean something more,
Than the money folks save, or the items they store.

His treasures lie, not in a shed full of junk,
Nor is it buried, deep down in a trunk.
No, it's more like a ship, that capsized, then was sunk.

If you're so lucky to find it, and so brave as to dive,
You'll see how it's passengers lived, while alive,
and can choose for yourself, who's impoverished, and who thrived.

Still, both are now here, decomposing to clay.
For richer, or poorer, we'll all end that way,
which that man in the mirror remembers, as he lives for each day.

This is what I'll remember, when I next see him there,
in the looking glass, meeting his pitiless stare,
and will know, that I too, can in that happiness share.