Self-Estimation

I stood before the mirror,
At a time when I was witty.
I looked a second time...over twice,
And I knew that I was pretty.

It wasn't from high-hat, over pride,
That I looked me up and down.
It wasn't because of my olive skin,
Or my deep, deep eyes of brown.

I saw those greying locks...o'er head,
And my smiles that crowded in.
I saw my wrinkles blotched around,
That run into a grin.

It wasn't the part where tears were made,
Nor their trace that I could see.
But it was...in thought what I thought of myself,
My great estimation of me.

I had no cause to show forth hate,
Or a tender heart...that melts.
I wanted to be just who I was,
And not a part of anyone else.


E.P. 1908 - 1989