Old age is a gentle song,
Memories are where their hearts belong.
Wrinkled hands of theirs, but still they weave,
Fantastic tales of love we can’t believe.
Grace in their every step, you feel a quiet glow,
Years have passed, but still they flow,
Laughter echoes through the fleeting days,
Like the golden sun in autumn’s haze.
Each gray strand holds a story bright,
Of dreams once chased, now a pure delight.
A reminder of a life well-lived, with lots of love to give,
In every age, through their echoing song, we learn to live.
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