The Burka

The Burka

I’m wearing my age like a burka.
Bald pate to bunions, all is hidden.
Visible yet invisible.
No dashing figure to catch a maiden’s eye.
No strutting pose to challenge younger men.
Just an outline in the ether,
A shape that’s saying nothing.

No one bothers what’s inside
While, unnoticed, I look out.
........