In the mirror, lines trace stories old and new,
Each wrinkle a testament of the life we knew.
Silver strands glisten with the dawn’s early light,
A graceful dance of shadows in the night.

Time, the painter, with a gentle, steady hand,
Colors our days with hues both bland and grand.
Every year a brushstroke on the canvas wide,
Each moment a whisper, a wave in the tide.

With each season, we gather more than we lose,
Wisdom found in choices, in paths we choose.
Hands that once trembled now hold firm with grace,
Eyes that once sparkled, a softer, knowing gaze.

Embrace the journey, the passage of years,
Celebrate the laughter, remember the tears.
For aging is a gift, a story to be told,
A testament of life, as we grow old.