wrinkled poem on wrinkled paper...found!

I'm moving to Texas in a few days (aahhkk!) and so I'm dutifully going through my things as I pack them to either come with me or stay stored here in Maryland. I was going through a box of journals, skimming pages and laughing at myself when a piece of paper fell out. It was a poem I had written when I was maybe 16 or 17. It is no masterpiece, but I was sure proud of it back then. I must have written it while at work at Instant Information Systems, because this is the only copy I seem to have...it wasn't saved anywhere. I thought it was gone forever, but here it is, in all it's glory:

Wrinkles

I have a fear.
Someday I'll walk past myself
Sitting in a corner, on a creaky wooden chair
Collecting dust
With cobwebs in my hair.
I'm old and wrinkled,
With gnarled hands and a blank stare
From sitting in the same spot
Collecting dust.

So I'll do my best to clean off the cobwebs and the dust
But I won't be able to do anything about the wrinkles
Which is okay;
Good, even.
Because wrinkles represent years of life lived.

Once I've cleaned myself off I'll say,
"There, good as new"
But I won't really be.
Because wrinkles represent years of life lived
But not necessarily years of life lived well--
Because I ended up
Sitting in a corner, on a creaky wooden chair
Collecting dust
With cobwebs in my hair.