When I look in the mirror, I see a face,
Worn by time, weathered by grace.
Eyes like rivers, deep and slow,
Tracing the miles of where I’ve been and where I’ll go.

Once a young man, full of dreams and fire,
Now an old man with a heart of quiet desire.
Wrinkles tell stories, lines carved by years,
Each one a reminder of joy and of tears.

Hair, now silver like mountain snow,
A crown earned through valleys and peaks below.
These hands, they’ve labored, they’ve built, they’ve prayed,
And this back has carried the burdens I made.

I see the youth that once ran wild and free,
Chasing horizons and climbing every tree.
Now I walk slower, with a wisdom grown still,
Finding beauty in each moment, a life fulfilled.

For age is not a thief; it’s a friend in disguise,
Teaching me to cherish, to love, to realize.
So I nod to that old man staring back at me,
And thank him for the journey—wild, long, and free.

-MJHarvell