Mirrors

Mirrors

On Adam’s Hill one day in Spring
My mirror showed an awful thing
A face that was no longer young
I thought my bell forever rung

Time passed by, I did not die
Nor did I cry or even sigh
Though youth was slowly gliding by

Another day in a later May
As I began my busy day
Another mirror told the tale
My youthful lips had gone to pale
Artistic touch with pencil deft
Alas, my lips had simply left

Well, that’s alright, in age we pay for every careless sunshine ray
And now the age spots take the stage
but autumn’s day hath made me sage.