By Elizabeth Lucas
It was my class reunion, and all through the house,
I checked in each mirror and begged my poor spouse
To say I looked great, that my chin wasn’t double,
And he lied through false teeth, just to stay out of trouble.
Said that ‘neath my thick glasses, my eyes hadn’t changed,
And I had the same figure, it was just a mite rearranged.
He said my skin was still silky, although looser in drape,
Not so much like smooth satin, but more like silk crepe.
I swallowed his words hook, sinker and line
And entered the banquet feeling just fine.
Somehow I’d expected my classmates to stay
As young as they were on that long-ago day
We’d hugged farewell hugs. But like me, through the years,
They’d added gray to their hair, or pounds to their rears.
But as we shared a few memories and retold some class jokes,
We were eighteen in spirit, though we looked like our folks.
We turned up hearing aid volumes and dimmed down the light,
Rolled back the years, and were young for the night.