Behold the silver crowning of thy brow,
A sacred light that time adorns thee now.
Though youth has fled on swift and silent wing,
Within our hearts, eternal summers sing.
Your hand in mine, we tread the evening slope,
Through valleys deep with memory and hope.
Each line upon thy face a tale untold,
Of laughter shared and autumn turning gold.
The storms of yesteryear have passed us by,
Like fleeting clouds across a marble sky.
We stand as oaks with roots entwined and deep,
A vigil over love that we shall keep.
So let us walk until the light grows dim,
Responding only to the twilight’s hymn.
To grow old is a grace, a tender art,
Two spirits beating as a single heart.
This piece reflects on the serenity found in long-lasting companionship, viewing the twilight years not as an end, but as the crowning glory of a lifetime of devotion.
