Clear Lip Gloss

I would run my fingertips along

the sharp plastic ridges and

tubes of facade rich glitter

wink at me from behind their

metal cages

The mirror stares back at me

as I stare at it

Brown straw dry hair

Short scratchy awkward

Gawky wanting to be

one of the popular ones

One of the flowers first

to be plucked from the field

Clear lip gloss coats my fingers

and leaves icky sticky finger prints

a reminder of my adolescence

Wiped clean as a slate

replaced with eye striking

ruby red polish, mature

The lip gloss faded and turned

to frown lines and worried

knotted hands like the trunk

of a tree not quite done growing

but not tall enough to withstand

the incoming storm

When I brace myself for the

now the coming the future

I see no traces of the clear

finger printed gloss

all that is left is

A smattering

of freckled glitter and tears

and I know I am no longer

A freshly plucked flower or

the sticky sparkly tubes of gloss

I have extended from my own

being into a tree

not yet strong enough to

support a swing set or

withstand the hurricanes

incoming

not quite done 

growing.