Poetry

Old is Gold

“My, the silent that falls when they speak,
the whispers that fade when they stand,
the muscles that relax when touching,
their warm and consoling hands,

The laughs that echo ever after their jokes,
The smiles that cease not to mirror theirs,
the satisfied tongues perpetually craving more,
of the delicacies they effortlessly craft with such care,

The wrinkles of theirs that have outlasted decades,
their sight widening young eyes,
their silver hair that glimmers in the faintest of light,
the wisdom in them so easily realised,

The tranquillity that spreads over hearts at,
their deliberate, thoughtful stares,
the ears that pounce at their ever profound words,
to miss a sentence they wouldn’t bear,

Their mouths that have sung the songs of distant years,
Their limbs which have helped those so gone,
Their crinkled-eye smiles that have faded tears away,
the happiness their sculpted words have bestowed upon,

The youth more often than not blind to their value,
believing in being young and being bold,
what a pity it is,
that they often dismiss,
that the elderly are more precious than gold.”

~Azzam Anwar

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