Portrait

Do not paint me when

I am young
But rather wait for
Life lines to appear
So that I may be the story
Of my life and not a child
Captive yet in the dress
Of innocence,
Place upon the canvas the
Traces of joys and sorrows,
Permit me the shading of time
For I would rather be proffered
Evidence of a life lived
Beyond the certain knowledge
Of those who gaze upon the constructed face,
Than be a symbol of the uttered words:
Thus once was I.