You are... me. Aren't you?
I feel sure of it. What of you?
I once was told...
"You are... (speaking of me)
tall, dark, and handsome,"
but what is it that you now see?"
"Stooped, greyed, and icky, I'd be?"
You are... being less than nice
but then again, you may be right.
I have changed, haven't I,
with each passing decade?
You are, though, a composite
of the have-beens, I had-been,
whereas you see me being
reconstituted of renovated parts.
C'est la vie
You. too, will be, eventually.
When it happens, you might
as well, do tell, end up
speaking with oneself, like me.
