She looks into the honest, fogged mirror

And she sees a person she’s proud of

She sees the deep lines stretched upon her forehead

Symbolizing the wisdom of her old age

She sees the dark circles hugging her eyes

As a careful reminder of the long nights and hard work

She sees her full lips, dry and cracked

Not afraid to speak her mind and bare the truth

She sees two brown gems that have witnessed the world

 And all it has to offer

She reaches out and opens her hands

And looks down to see the lifelines

Extended along her palms

These weathered hands that have

Crawled, scratched, and climbed through life

 Digging for a single opportunity

These fragile hands that have held her child

Against her chest and rocked her softly to sleep

Everyday her imperfections grow more perfect

Every wrinkle is a token of her beauty

In her flawless reflection