These wrinkles are the hands of time,

The journeys I've been on

They've seen me through a thousand days,

And ev'ry victory won

 

These eyes are weak,
They see much less

Than yours they've seen much more

They've guided me through birth, through death,

Through grief, through hurt, through war

 

These ears can hear so very little,

Yet they've learned to listen much

They perk up not for gossip now,

But for a heart to touch

 

Those younger often look my way,

With pity looks to give

Yet this old body doesn't mean I am dying,

But rather, that I have lived