Fingerprint

A crooked nose draws aging brow to tip,

Traversing down brown freckles, dot-to-dot

They greet the sun like flowers bloom; a trick

Of clever skin becoming season’s clock.

A fingerprint of time and shine absorbed,

Bears life transfused with joy and pain alike,

The footprints of crow dances cast a form

Uniquely mine, composed of spectral light.

All colours welcomed, stored, transformed into

Patinaed skin; thin, bleachy wisps of hair,

Belying wire wool beard with frost flecked through,

Reflects the take of love, and vigour, shared.

My face, the icon of my private myth,

Tells stories you’ll not hear emerge from lips.