Tans poem.

Glamour Fades

Tans are fading.
Enhancing brown, that
made smiles brighter,
appears to seep back into
naturally light skin.

The harm that is done,
does not manifest itself
in the young.
The damage cannot be seen.
So, therefore it is not there,
they think.

Years of destruction
begins to reveal weather
worn skin. That ruddy
outdoorsy look.

Wrinkles surface
along with a devastating
cancer that makes us say,
“we shouldn’t have done that.”

But, we did. And so will
generations that follow.
The sun thaws our winter frozen
bodies and bathes us with deep
relaxation.

And oh, how good
we looked. And how beautiful
the silver glistened on our fingers
and around our wrists.

We become old and we’re
either glad we had the experience
or we stare into the mirror with regret.