The wrinkles there begat old age;
The crippled hands speak of younger days.
The worn our feet, life’s paths they’ve tread;
The head held high, from a good life led.
The crackling voice, a comforting talk;
The loving heart, it does not lock.
The soft set eyes are quick to tears.
The quick, bright mind filled from the years.
The wisdom there gives peace of mind.
The endless deeds are always kind.
The body’s old, the spirit young.
The battles fought, the wars are won.
The face I see will only smile.
Despite old age, that timeless trial.
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