Lines...

Lines…

Don’t look at them as old and grey.

These are proof,

that I am living a full life.

Some tell the stories of my smiles and laughter,

the bearing, the caring.

While some remind me of the frowns and anger,

the grief the sorrow.

These lines on my face,

I wear them with pride.

’Cause no young being can have them, you see…

They must be lived.

Lived through the thick and the thin.

Each one of our faces

tells a beautiful story.

Some times of pain…

and some times of love.

And in every crease

rests an echo of peace,

a memory refusing to fade.

Not all are lucky to have them, remember.

So let’s celebrate…

Celebrate them so much

that the young begin to feel,

This is a lovely place to be.