I see my soul come galloping br making and patching my threading seams br embracing me in the gloaming br between twilight and evening br making new passages as the younger years br fall away. br br I see my heart throbbing, mending br and renewing br even in a veil of past-time tears. br I see my youth standing by br in the cracked mirror br and curse how much of my outward identity is emprisoned br there br and the voice says counterpoint br 'Don't drown in that mirror pool.' br br I hear, voices, mostly my own br clamor down from its retreat br and reassert once again br 'Why can I not be forever me br and not be betrayed br by times passages br and the views of me br others hold br who lack my life's memories br because they can only remember br the morning's cereal br whist I can recall br a life-time's banquet. br br Yes, its time which is the barrier br I sometimes breach with stories br I tell my kids about the old days br how things were different br but they blank stare politely br and indulge dad's preoccupations br in irrelevancies, they themselves br can never know. br br I feel my youth as if yesterday br explaining to them it took this long br to be me my youth again br br but alas my renewed youth has become invisible br to them and other others br and I can hear them mouthing 'don't embarrass us br trying to be young again br look in the mirror; ' br and I do and lecture it on its inadequacies br to reflect this new older, younger me. br Is this foolish, a chimera? br Or merely my own imagined and denied reflection. br br But do I sound middle-aged and crotchety? br br Maybe, but that is only sound br and not I.