Cusp

At the cusp of getting old

I painted

a self-portrait.

Appropriately

it was Fall. 

Crimson and gold leaves 

swirl around me

in the painting.

My face is lined,

my shoulders tense,

my eyes squint in pain.

I hold a mask 

before me

of a young woman 

with blushing cheeks.

2 thoughts on “Cusp

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