In the quiet corners of a restless mind,
Where memories linger and shadows unwind,
Too old to fold emotions of gold,
A tapestry woven with stories untold.
Threads braided in laughter, frayed at the seams, Echoes of whispers, the wreckage of dreams;
Time paints each moment in shades far and wide, Yet beneath the patina, the heart beats with pride.
Seasons shall change, and the years may grow bold, But wisdom can cradle the warmth of the cold.
Each tear that has glittered, each smile that has gleamed, A legacy held in the fabric of dreams.
For though I am wrinkled, and days may grow long, In the arms of my memories, I still sing my song.
Too old to fold emotions of gold, A treasure of heartbeats, and love to behold.
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