My Lessening Years

Gliding across my lathered face
This morning
The razor skimmed over
A hollowing
In my cheeks.

I had not noticed
This feature
In my reflection.
Ever.
Not in sixty-one years.

Toweling dry
I reflected this must be
The necessary
Lessening
To which man is subject.

Tomorrow
Or the next day
Or day beyond that
I will discover yet another
Small reminder that I, too
Am stalked by
The Shadow with scythe.

Until he and I are
Formally introduced
Coffee will be as rich
Rum as heady
The breeze as fragrant
Music as tuneful
And the embrace of love
As passionate
As when I was a teen.

No.
That is not right.
I must correct that.

Every detail of life
From coffee to sex
From the blush of dawn
To the ink of midnight
Will be better
And better.
And even better.

Value
We must understand
Cannot be had by the abundance
Of things
But by their rarity.

So, tomorrow
When I shave
And behold the narrowing
Of my aging face
I will not bemoan
My lessening years.

I will laugh.