The Skin I’m In
This is a post I did some months back. I thought it might be interesting to those of you who have not seen it before or even to those of you who have seen it. Anyway, here it is again, hope you like it.
The age of reason starts at seven and suddenly, we are eleven. Our skin at these ages resemble the pages of a well-loved book.
Time passes, our skin forms few wrinkles as the pages of the book begin to form dimples.
The older we get, the skin shows the net, of the years, as the book’s skin starts to begin, to look older you see.
Now we are much older, we become bolder and we look with dismay at the skin we display; then we cover it with creams and makeup it seems.
To our jaded eye, nothing can hide the passage of time, no matter the clime.
In the end we give up, because try as we may; “It really makes no difference,” I say.
Today’s Theme: Skin
The form is: Prose Poetry
The device is: Internal Rhyme