To Love One’s Age

In the garden of time,
We walk paths that intertwine,
Each step measured by the rhythm of our hearts.

Age is but a number,
Riding atop the breath of life,

Moving through the evolution of Nature’s

Grand plan.

Yes…

At times,

A cyclone of movement

Whirls and twists

Turning our direction,

Settling us where we need to be.

And yes…

There are periods of chaos,

Where trust and faith in the current’s path

Gives us pause,

Reflection,

Acceptance,

Knowing every gust,

Every gale,

Has led us to this moment.

But, oh…

How joyful

One’s young love,

Vibrant and new,
Like spring blossoms
Full of promise and discovery.

Mature love, steady and deep,
Like ancient trees,
Rooted in understanding and shared history,

Respecting the boundaries,
honoring the stages,
That connect the nurturing of growth.

To know that age is but the dance of time,

Pacing our changes,

Yet guiding us with duration’s gentle stride,

Along with fiercely dervish swirls at times.

And eve as frail hands of the elderly hold each other,

They wear their smiles proudly,

Knowing they found each other

Not by the years they’ve lived,
but by the ageless moments they created together.