Poem: Aging with Grace

Aging with Grace

The years weave softly through my hair,
Silver threads that dance with care,
Not a mark of time to mourn,
But a badge of wisdom born.

Lines like rivers carve my face,
Each one tells a story, trace
Of laughter, sorrow, joy, and strife—
The gentle contours of my life.

The body slows, yet heart beats strong,
A rhythm steady, sweet, and long.
The muscles ache, but in their place,
There’s a quiet strength, a deeper grace.

I’ve learned that beauty doesn’t fade,
It shifts in light, in shade, in trade—
A quiet glow, a softer smile,
A peace that lingers all the while.

For in the years that softly fold,
I’ve found that growing old
Is not a loss, but a sacred space,
Where love and time embrace with grace.

So let the years unfold their tale,
Like wind that whispers through the veil,
And I’ll stand firm, with heart set free—
A dance with time, eternally.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie