It was just a glance… then it turned into a stare,
For who was that aged creature standing there?
The eyes were full of red with rings like half quarters,
Thin lifeless hair, double chin, slumping shoulders.
Ancient, worn, weathered from living and days spent,
My skin crawled as up my back cold chills it sent.
I mused… “Who was this old person looking at me? ”
The reflection of one I had come to be.

Loyd C. Taylor

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reality-91/