ageless

In the twilight of years,
Where time's footsteps echo in a slow, steady cadence,
Memories hang like portraits in the hallways of the mind,
Each a window to a moment long past, yet vivid as the morning sun.

The hands of the clock, once racing, now move with grace,
Marking moments not in haste, but in the fullness of presence,
For in the autumn of life, each second is a leaf,
Golden and treasured, drifting softly to its place upon the earth.

Eyes that have witnessed the ebb and flow of seasons,
Now gaze with a quiet knowing, a gentle acceptance,
Of the beauty found in the withering petal, the graying hair,
The lines etched by laughter, the maps of a journey well-traveled.

Old age, a tapestry woven with threads of silver and sage,
A composition of wisdom sung in the hush of a whisper,
Where every wrinkle is a verse, every sigh a chorus,
In the grand, unfolding ballad of a life lived and living still.