Taffeta ruffles,
meet the starch of age.
Your blush now comes from a bottle.
Fallen arches and brittle bones
wave farewell to the seamless beauty
of youth,
the lithe and supple grace
in looking-glass of old.
Don’t trade wisdom for agility,
or experience for smooth skin.
Embrace the wrinkles
that stamp Life into features;
name gray hairs
Maturity and Character.
As your last sun sets,
stand tall.
Smile.
When your light rises again,
your skin will be fresh and new.
Your legs will be strong,
your steps sure.
Wait, my friend.
Your day is coming.

What are your thoughts?