I look at you sitting there
Beauty in the grayness of your hair
Deep roads of wisdom line your face
And carved, etched around your lips
Where words fall with grace.
In wonderment I sit
And watch your hands as they flit
In them I see meaning, accomplishment, peace
Resting now, no shifting
And the sweetness of release.
And hope in this cruel, grasping world
All that I have laid down
Will lead me to one day bask
In the splendor of age
And wear time like a crown.
-Emily Chumchal Andrews
© January 2015