My body is not young and tight,
its skin is no longer taut.
Crow’s feet fan from my eyes,
and freckles speckle my face and arms.
Hardened callouses encrust the heels
of my feet, their edges split and bleed in the cold.
A long, smiling scar bisects my torso
from hip to hip, stretch marks from breasts to back.
I love it.
My body brought into existence four babies,
three to raise to adulthood and one to lose,
my reminder of their bodies’ fragility.
My body bears the brunt of many smiles
etched into its surface for all to see.
It continues to draw my love to me
in the middle of the night, an irresistible pull
in full view of my many imperfections.
It will never be perfect, never again young,
it will never turn other’s heads,
but it is mine, a mirrored reminder
that I have lived, and loved.