What the Mirror Gives Back

The mirror gives back
a face I don't always recognize—
older than I expect,
softer than I remember,
marked by weather
I didn't think
I'd carry.

But the eyes—
the eyes still carry
the boy
who believed
the world was his
to wonder at.

He was right.
He still is.

The only thing
that's changed
is I no longer need
the world
to agree.