On being mistaken for myself

Photos never lie
except when they must,
with a minimum of mendacity,
tell welting whoppers
about how egregiously old
the old codger has become.

I have studied photos
taken years ago
that make me look
youthful although
I can recall
at the time thinking
how mature that youth looked.

So, how upset was I when,
being told a particular
photo was a good
likeness of me,
was unable to identify
which of the old coots
was I?

Weak eyes
in the morning
whilst before a mirror
can be an advantage:
weak eyes
allow me to believe
my own press releases
to myself.


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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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