Naked Jess

Wrinkles are short cuts over grass verges,
They are the pages turned back in old books,
So you don't loose your pages, your ages.
They are squints from sunny days.
They are giggles rolled out like pastry,
They are all the worries about the future and the regret of every sin.
They are tip-i-toed sorrows that drift on your chin.
They are GCSE maths
They are your future divorce,
They are the elbow grease of every battle fought.