When did this body decide it
was going to no longer align
with the mind on how it
felt regardless of
days lived of
looking in a mirror and seeing
not a stranger but
rather someone who
makes you want to believe time travel is
this is Future You coming to impart something gobsmackingly great.
But the movements and
faces made back
They match perfectly.
You find yourself wondering when—if—you’ll ever be wise
and if—when?—how?—you can call yourself mature (whatever that means).
So you make another face and try to
figure out how to
hold this new tension of young in old,
old (in frame) and young (in heart).
*Photo by Apostolhs Gkoutzidhs on Unsplash