Two new strands of grey do not trouble me
The wrinkles around my eyes define my tryst with life
A rejoicing heart that celebrates every moment
And a few carefree laughters have kept me alive 
I recall the memories that come flooding 
As I sit aslant in front of that antique mirror
Nothing has changed with ever changing seasons 
And life to me has only got dearer
I live under no illusion I see the stark truth
A smile so symbolic adorns my aging face 
The mysteries that lie within them are hard to resolve
I have lived life fully and at my own pace 
Each crease has a fascinating story to tell
The wrinkled hands have reared many a young ones
I celebrate the dark circles under my radiant eyes 
They reflect sleepless nights that my life has churned 
My stance may no more be rampant 
My memory not as sharp as the swords edge
My desires may have curbed over the passing years 
But echoes of the past is the treasure I dearly possess
I gather them all in my two tremulous hands
And place a kiss on my closed palms
A content teardrop slides down my rough cheek slowly 
With a promise to lead the rest of the life with no qualms

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