An Unfinished Project

I look at 

my face, unadorned

in the mirror.

I decide it’s

a good face, 

an uncompromising face.

All those wrinkles –

years forming – show

I’ve been expressive.

The hooded eyes,

small and dim,

are deeply knowing.

That set mouth

is not grimacing.

No, it’s soft

when you look;

but in repose

is still, closed.

This face is

waiting to be

aroused, interested, moved.

It’s not yet

at the end

of its journey.

It may still

develop new marks

of its passage,

of its involvement

in the life

unfolding around it

and the life –

ever new, unknown –

developing behind it.

Written for Friday Writings #79 at Poets and Storytellers United.