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Click hereThe mirror holds my raw image.
Lines stretched across the glass,
Speaking to me of years past.
Ruby red wine, rich and dark left its mark.
Long cigarettes smoked in many a dirty bar,
Tools used to help time mar.
Eyes stare back, bruised and hurt.
Men with soft voices and hard hands,
Added speed to the hourglass sands.
Passing life adds another year to my age.
The girl has left a woman behind,
There for friends and lovers to find.
...is what I sense the most in much of your writing, though I've yet to read anything other than your poetry. Again, you seem to have a knack for evoking things in your readers, or at least, in this one...