I look in the mirror and what do I see?
Why, my dear Grandmother looking at me!
Her hair is all silver, pulled back from her face;
How could it be that I stand in her place?

I look at her now with skin soft as peaches,
With lines and patches, bags and creases;
Her eyelids droop softly just over her eyes,
That sit inside circles like an owl old and wise.

I miss my dear Gramma but would rather see
The young woman I once was looking at me,
With hair long and brown and skin taut and clear
But still keep the lessons I now hold so dear.

Lessons that brought on this silver grey mop,
Each wrinkle and circle, crease and spot.
Without them I fear I’d still hold to my pride,
So foolish and selfish as I was as a bride.

So on second thought, I’ll look at Gramma once more
And reconsider what I thought before;
Maybe there’s something of more value to note
That somehow I missed from this end of the boat.

Though outwardly I still am wearing away,
Inwardly I can grow more lovely each day;
For all things work together for good—
To conform me to the image of Jesus … not to Gramma, for crying out loud!

(MarJean S. Peters  copyright 05-05-2015)