All I saw were wrinkles.

These wrinkles exemplified pain, loss, happiness and content. These wrinkles in his long leathery complexion represented my life; and how every moment is a wrinkle in time. These wrinkles in the old mans face told me where I had been and where I still had to go. I glanced at the old man, pain and sorrow clouded his eyes, which were covered by his snow white hair, which fell gently upon his forehead much like how a feather almost levitates before it hits the ground.

All I saw were wrinkles.

The old man turned slowly towards me, his facade was illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, and he flashed me that all knowing smile of his, which old age could never take away. This radiant smile was a rare sight to see nowadays he seemed to enjoy the company of books rather then the company of people.

All I saw were wrinkles.

The old man was a silent presence. Silent enough to sneak up on me when I used to watch Sunday morning cartoons. Grandpa! I would exclaim, half suprised half content that he was just with me and by my side.

All I saw were wrinkles.

The old man gave me one last sad smile and stood up from the cracked leather sofa.

Where are you going? I asked him.

I never found out.

I never will.

All I saw were wrinkles