Tattered Lace

Old and grey..twisted and bent. We're no longer that picture of beauty and youth and joyous exuberance. We are now the picture of grace and age.

Our seeds - we've sown..and scattered about. From them will sprout next season's generation. The lace in which we once dressed..is now tattered and torn and faded. We are old - wizened and shriveled and shrunken.

And yet - if someone might stop..just for a moment. If someone might sit here and rest by our side..and take notice. There are stories we could share and tell. Stories of life and experience. Stories of heartbreak and joy and love and regret and dreams - dreams... both big and small.

If someone might stop...just for a moment. They might hear the voices of wisdom. And if they were quiet enough and really listened...they might hear the words of those who are still and forever young-at-heart...and not at all as we appear.