In Breathless Admiration

You remember, don't you, back when
we were so tenderly young and in our
youth so inexpressibly vulnerable, with
a beauty and vivaciousness known only
to the young? I remember, vividly, and so
must you. When we failed to recognize
just how beautiful we were, and agonized
over blemishes we were certain detracted
from our slight attributes and we wished
we were different, and dreamed what it
might feel like to be perfect, even while
we were indeed perfect. That was then.
Now, through dimmed yet penetrating
vision we see ourselves unrecognizing
ourselves yet knowing there we are, aged
imperfect and utterly lacking the perfection
we once believed would be ours on maturity
ever so anxious to attain that state. Never
at any stage did we view ourselves for the
wonders of nature that we represented.
Yet, wonder of wonders, through the prism
of ourselves as we are, we view the young
with an appreciation we denied ourselves,
for their exuberance and ethereal beauty
their rounded limbs and perfect skin, their
expectant eyes, their flashing teeth and 
smile-curving mouths, their flyaway hair 
and their grace of movement. Wonderful.
It's enough to take your breath away.