The memory holds a reflection of self the mirror no longer recalls. Familiar patterns etched in flesh, times artistry unmatched.

So subtle is this slight of hand we awake with wisdoms mystery new.
Aged with graceful trickery to late for remorseful tears.

When one day we realize it has come to an end.
No more smiles of surprise life cradled now in children eyes.

A crooked smile rises from the times you thought of ending the dance.

Realizing you have emerged as a master.