A man looks in the mirror early in the morning and sees someone who seems both familiar and changed. The speaker knows this old man well, since every line on his face holds a shared memory. The hair has gone gray, and the once-muscled belly has softened. Still, the speaker insists that "years are a kind of deceit," because the eyes tell a different story: they are bright, ambitious, and carrying the weight of many steps and missteps.
The poem slowly turns into a pep talk. "Hang in there, old man" sounds like something said to a friend, which makes the speaker's tone warm and a little wry. He admits to sagging flesh, aching joints, and regret, but refuses to let them define him. What he stresses is that the man can still stand tall and weigh his own successes and failures. The final image of the "dark, morning mirror" adds a quiet, sober mood, yet the feeling is steady and hopeful, a kind of self-acceptance with some defiance in it.