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Samuel Okike
Student, Copywriter, Photographer, Poet, Philosopher @ Ibadan
Ageing a curse?
<p>The Quiet Season</p><p><br/></p><p>Old age drifts in like evening light,</p><p>Soft and slow, not bold or bright.</p><p>The hands once quick begin to rest,</p><p>The heart beats calm within the chest.</p><p><br/></p><p>The mirror holds a gentler face,</p><p>With lines that time will not erase.</p><p>Each wrinkle tells a story true—</p><p>Of battles lost and triumphs too.</p><p><br/></p><p>The world moves on with hurried feet,</p><p>Yet stillness now feels more complete.</p><p>The rush of youth, a distant tide,</p><p>Now wisdom walks with quiet pride.</p><p><br/></p><p>The laughter comes in softer tones,</p><p>More from the soul than from the bones.</p><p>And memories, both sweet and sharp,</p><p>Play like a well-worn, faithful harp.</p><p><br/></p><p>Though strength may fade and steps grow slow,</p><p>There’s grace in all the things we know.</p><p>For age is not the end, but proof,</p><p>Of all we've loved beneath life’s roof.</p><p><br/></p><p>So let the silver crown the brow,</p><p>Let silence hold the moment now.</p><p>For old age is a sacred fire—</p><p>A life well-lived, a soul grown higher.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p>
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