As I grow older,
my eyesight dims, my hearing fades.
I sleep less than before, eat less,
and walk with gentler, slower steps.
But something amazing begins to happen.
I start to accept myself—
to love who I am, without regret,
without the self-torture of the past.
I seek my own joy now.
I grow selective with my circle of friends,
easily sensing the false,
and drawing the genuine ones near.
I no longer crave advice I didn’t ask for,
nor feel the need to please everyone.
I waste no breath arguing
with those who reject reason
or refuse to listen.
With each passing year, I see more clearly:
I have only one life—
precious, even as it fades.
I savor the quiet moments,
find joy in simple things.
I welcome my wrinkles,
embrace my thinning hair.
And I no longer let others define my worth.
For aging is not only about fading—
it is about finally shining,
in a light that is wholly mine.
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