Lines

They develop on skin almost overnight,
A sign of aging, the fright emphasized in ads selling serums,
But I like yours.
They tell me how long we've known

Even as we've grown behind our own lines.
They deepen as the soul deepens:

Through salt, wind, and sun,
And also water, and sometimes laughter.

The self is the accumulation of experiences and perceptions.

When I saw your steel blue eyes once
Again, more silver shimmering in your hair
Your lines pulled me in, uninvited,
Into the depths and the shallows
Of this man I've never really known.
The soul is a stairway of skin.