Of a Morning

When I am showered of a morning
have brushed my hair and shaved
I know that what looks back at me
(as I wipe the last trace of foam
from that steamed and pampered face)
is as good as it will get
and a sort of amazement overwhelms me
One you've maybe felt as well

The best that face can do is so unlike myself
This childishness I carry
this constant feeling of Wow! and Yeah!
isn't even there among the lines
no matter how plumped and primped the face
Except perhaps for the eyes
and they need glasses now as well
A tiresome theme, overworked, old as love

Universal though, you'll know it now or later
A voice that speaks all languages
What surprises life has had for me
under rocks, where I still peek as if a child
The various disasters and incredible good fortune
caught me with the same astonished smile
A fabulous puzzle, just more pieces now
where age has caught me still a kid