Old

In the quiet twilight of life's endless stream, Where memories linger like a haunting dream, There, in the shadows of days gone by, Resides the wisdom of a soul that's soared high.

Lines etched on skin, tales in every crease, Each wrinkle a story, each mark a release, Time's gentle caress, a bittersweet embrace, A journey of moments, leaving nary a trace.

In the whispers of twilight, age finds its grace, Embracing the past with a tender embrace, For though limbs may weaken and vision grow dim, The spirit within still burns with a flame undimmed.

In the tapestry of life, where youth meets its end, Old age weaves a tale, with wisdom to lend, For in the quiet stillness of the evening's hue, There's beauty in being old, in all that we knew.