Crows feet crinkling
I look younger without them
Lies of youth, a waste
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Crows feet crinkling
I look younger without them
Lies of youth, a waste
Today I look at my hands
My tiny, small, woman’s hands
And run fingertips over the
Small callouses beginning to form
The skin beginning to dry
And crack in places
And I feel happy
For everything I can do now
All these things that younger me
Wouldn’t even dream of
November 22, 2024