Silver Echoes
Hair's growing; wrinkles are showing,
The years drift by, the seasons flowing.
Hair so silver, time so light,
Softly fading into night.
Every strand, a story spun,
Every line, a setting sun.
This silver thread, a whispered glow,
Woven deep from years ago.
A quiet echo, soft yet clear,
Of love and lessons drawing near.
The older we get, the fewer calls,
Yet sunset’s glow still gently falls.
Time may fade, but hearts stay true ,
And each new day feels born anew.
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Ron