Far fled the fleeting fires of youthful prime,
And wilder passions now have sunk to rest;
Yet in their wake, we mock the scythe of Time,
With deeper vows within the tranquil breast.
Though tempests roared and blackened skies above,
We walked merely, hand clasping faithful hand;
Through every trial, stronger grew our love,
A fortress built upon the solid land.
Upon thy brow, I trace the silver thread,
A map of mirth and tender sorrows shared;
Let spring depart and summer blooms be dead,
Thy autumn grace is beauty unimpaired.
No gold nor gem outshines this sacred bond,
This quiet joy that hallows all our days;
Of years gone by, and those that lie beyond,
We sing the hymn of everlasting praise.
In the grand tapestry of life, the threads of constancy and shared history weave the strongest patterns. This verse serves as a gentle testament to the quiet dignity of a long marriage, proving that affection deepens not in spite of time, but because of it.
