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I sometimes catch myself at rest,

 I see an older woman, 

I’d like to say I see a dish 

but I am only human. 

I sag, i bag, my skin has folds, 

I’m not sandblasted, taut. 

I’m showing life upon my skin, 

at times it has been fraught. 

But this line here is from my son, 

and this his brother’s gift. 

And yes, I could have surgery 

I could go buy a lift. 

But then would my face show my tale? 

Would it match my story? 

Or would I be a still mill pond, 

a false flat former glory?

 I suspect that my fate is set, 

lines will no doubt abound. 

But hey, no op means no cash cost. 

Let’s make it drinks all round!

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