Approached with trepidation
they assault our self esteem
when we waddle up for judgment,
and they destroy our dream.
Cold unflinching arbiters
reflecting just the truth
of what was long suspected;
aging has borne its fruit.
Saggy baggy bodies
so long past being young,
when skin and muscles fit us
where now they are just hung.
Who is that I'm looking at
and who else is on the scale?
Gone from buff and suntanned
to overweight and pale.
I can't believe what's happened
has it been so long ago?
My pride of youthful vigor
is now dangling there below.
My wicked scale and mirror
have turned on me so fast,
showing the shocking present
where I was looking for the past.
by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved
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