In front of a morning’s first mirror

I stand

and pretend

                for only a few moments, mind you,

I pretend that it really matters how my hair looks (or looked)

                                or if my part was straight—

                                                   straight enough—

                                                                  for whom?—

and, then,

I smile warmly,

                    rather than wistfully recall 

all the hairs I had

                           before their fall

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

    "Having read only the first few pages, I had a feeling of warmth and familiarity which spurred me on to continue reading page after page."

    - Amazon Reviewer