Once I was young and spry,Leaping with dreams up high.Now I wake with a groan,Forgetting where I left my phone.These wrinkles tell a tale,Of laughter and nights gone stale.Hair turns a shade of snow,But wisdom begins to grow.Glasses perched upon my nose,Squinting at words that pose.Yet laughter lines my face,As I embrace this slower pace.Age is but a funny friend,With quirks that never end.Though knees may creak and whine,The heart stays young, divine.