In the gentle cradle of dawn’s first light,
Where whispers of dreams softly take flight,
Time unfolds its tender grace,
Etching lines upon each face.

With every sunlit, golden morn,
A tapestry of years is born,
The dance of days, a fleeting song,
Guiding us where we belong.

Leaves of memories softly fall,
In the quiet corners, they recall,
The laughter, tears, the moments past,
A gentle reminder, nothing can last.

Yet in the twilight’s gentle hue,
A wisdom blooms, serene and true,
Embrace the journey, near and far,
For in every wrinkle, shines a star.