I stand, naked before the mirror, looking at my flaws;
a thickening waist, breasts that are beginning to sag,
a small belly from carrying my son…
I am aging.
When I was 12, 18 seemed so far away
when I was 18, 25 was a century away
When I was 27, I cried my first set of tears
because now I knew what it meant to be aging.
At 30 I learned that the turbulent emotions I have felt for years
the anger and rage that I spewed on my family
Was due to undiagnosed depression;
the fact I needed to sedate and obliviate
was something I figured was due.
At 35 I discovered I was pregnant and spent my time in fear
for previously I had lost my daughter,
and how could I go through that again?
My child was born a tribute to his father;
identical in looks I would say
But as he grew and aged the truth became apparent,
after his mother does he take.
Now I am 44 and before the mirror I do stand;
I see my flaws, my double chins, the crow’s feet around my eyes
but I have a better understanding, I am more free
from the child I was, the child I crave to be;
Peter Pan rides my dreams, for Neverland is true.