The Eyes in Younger Days

I wonder about the color of my eyebrows
Once brown, long lashed,
Now the silvery intrusion
Reflects my age
Blood vessels feed my dark-brown hair roots
The body's chemical compounds
Strands dark brown or silver
Is it just my eye brows, my eye lids?
My time will come
My time has come
I stare deliberately in a daze
At the half-moon hidden behind gray clouds
Or see perhaps a figure of a slender beauty I know her
People hustling home
Some angry, some of feline kind, in small parts of conversation
My eyebrows protect my link in a chain of people
Father, Grandfather, Great-grandfather, Daughter
Mind and eyes now sharp I am wide awake
I see each object clear precise like the lens in a camera
I register and capture in a vast memory bank
Eyelids blink and eyes focus
Rests upon my stable strong face
The sculpture in the garden
The eyes and brain cells alert
Who is it?
Of course, that's me in younger days.