The Passage of Time

Time whispers softly, like a breeze through trees,

It molds our lives with effortless ease.

From the cradle of childhood, tender and small,

We grow, we stumble, we learn to stand tall.

The laughter of youth, so vibrant, so bright,

Chasing dreams in the stillness of night.

The world is a canvas, colors so wide,

In the rush of our steps, we no longer hide.

Years pass like rivers, swift and unseen,

The innocence fades, but memories glean.

Teenage hearts with questions untold,

Hoping for answers, for stories to unfold.

Then comes the moment, a fleeting surprise,

When time becomes clearer in older eyes.

The rush slows to whispers, the noise fades away,

And in the quiet of years, wisdom will stay.

From the golden light of youth's bright dawn,

To the silver threads that mark us withdrawn,

The moments that shape us, like seasons they flow,

Each one a marker in life's ebb and glow.

In the end, we are but stories we've lived,

Carried in time, with all we forgive.

For what we hold dear, what we leave behind,

Is the love and the moments that once filled our mind.

Time, a river, we cannot outrun,

But in its current, we find we’ve won.

For in every age, from youth to old,

Is a treasure of memories, both fragile and bold.

In the rush of life, we sometimes forget that time is the quiet architect of who we become, molding us through every stage of life.

In the end, it’s not the years we remember, but the moments we’ve lived through and the people we’ve shared them with.