In the mirror, lines of wisdom grow,
Each wrinkle tells a tale,
Of days gone by and lessons learned,
Of love that did not fail.

The hair turns silver, soft as snow,
A crown of years well-lived,
With every strand a memory,
Of all that life has given.

Eyes may dim, yet still they shine,
With light of inner sight,
For age is but a gentle hand,
That guides us through the night.

So let us cherish every year,
And greet each dawn with grace,
For in the heart that truly loves,
Time leaves no bitter trace.