Sometimes we look at our wrinkles, the cursed grey hairs and hate the hand of time. But for some, growing old is a dream that will never be fulfilled. Be grateful, love each day and smile.
Here is my first poem in a wee while.
From the wrinkles on the brow,
To the unwanted streaks of white,
One thinks that growing old
Is everyone’s given right?
Never take anything for granted,
Not even the aged signs,
Because there is always someone
Who wishes they had more time.
Glide gracefully through the years,
With appreciation and with love.
For life that you still have,
When others look down from above.
Be thankful for each day
That you wake and see the sun,
This is merely a dream
For some, their last day is done. ❤