When I see an old face, I study it well;
Try to imagine the stories they’d tell.
I think of the luster they had in their day;
The handsome young man or the beautiful maid.
When I see an old face, I retouch the lines;
Let it be young for just one more time;
I challenge my mind to recall days of old;
The cars and the houses, the stories we told.
When I see an old face, quickly, I smile.
For I know I will walk that treacherous mile.
I’ll pass by the mirror and look there to see ~
Why, that wrinkled old face looking back ~ is me!
