The Difference in Time

In a dust-covered drawer, an old passport waits,

a face I once wore with untainted fates.

Captured in stillness, the years intertwine,

yet the mirror reflects a truth more divine.

The photo, it smiles with an innocence bright,

but the lines on my face tell of battles and flight.

I glance at the glass, where the past seems to pine,

a witness to moments, the difference in time.