Roadmap

I look into the mirror
And feel sad at what I see –
A wrinkled replica of
A more vibrant, younger me.

On certain days, it’s not so bad;
Perhaps the change is subtle?
But looking at a photo album,
There is the rebuttal.

For just a year or two ago,
I think I looked okay,
At least a whole lot better
Than how I appear today.

But hey – a face is like a map
That marks the paths we’ve chosen
And all the ruts and potholes, well,
They sure beat decomposin’!