SMASHED MIRRORS

I wonder where they go? Your looks have left you all haggard

and old and derelict like so many different coloured mirrors,

all shattered to jagged shards. Black mirror, silver, green, blue.

What wicked bits remain put back together in a kaleidoscope

of evil colour contrasting to your lost beauty.

Like your dreary voice so very ancient. When will you die?

C...

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A poem about getting old... and staying young.

May I Never      

I may never rule the world with theories so fine

May never run past Bolt, smile and duck across the line.

I may never meet Mandela, Obama or the Queen,

I may never solve all wars, or stop leaders being mean.

I may never reach a hundred, run for thirty miles,

I may never help the hungry, turn their cries to happy...

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