Wrinkle our face
Twinkle weather
Quietly we embrace
Age together.
Each annular ring
Season’s turning breeze
In our ears sing
We are aging with ease.
What if she gets slow
My limbs are growing rust
Lacking youthful glow
We’re aging in good trust.
Her curves have lost the edge
My gait lacks olden spright
Yet nicely do we age
We’re aging without fright.
Have grown dim our eyes
Ears too often fail
There’s no disguise
We are aging well.
We are past that ride
Stuck on the surface
Reached that space inside
Where we can age in grace.
Leave the thorn and pluck the rose,
you go in search of grief.
Old Age will creep up on you
when your heart does not expect it
(Bernadetto Pamphili)
Geras - God of old age in Greek mythology