gray grace, it grows on you a certain
days taking tolls making us bend and bow
strange bedfellows become us as we go
the smiles come easier with every
belief we held when young to see anew
through falling hair and cataracts like dew
on misty memories held close and left
to go to where we are on a way to
go very breifly, so we gather rainbows
try to learn new languages pass on the
little bits of life we learned experienced.