In the quiet whispers of the morning light,
I trace the lines of years upon my face,
Each wrinkle tells a story, bold and bright,
Of moments lived, and time’s unending chase.

The days once endless, now seem to fleet,
Like autumn leaves upon a gentle breeze,
Yet in each fleeting day, a heartbeats’ beat,
Lies wisdom gained, and sorrows eased.

With every dawn, a tapestry is spun,
Threads of silver weave through strands of gold,
And though the years like rivers swiftly run,
They carve a soul, both tender and bold.

So here I stand, with open arms to greet,
The gentle march of time, unseen yet felt,
For in its passage, life becomes complete,
A journey rich, in memories deeply dwelt.