All the other garden blossoms
Are prettier than me,Their petals, ruffled in the breeze,
Are shaped so perfectly.
But I am well beyond my prime,
My beauty fades away.
Each petal withers, then it falls,
I’ve fewer every day.
They say that wisdom comes with age…
So I must not be old,
But every inch of leaf and stem
Starts aching in the cold.
Though wisdom may not be mine yet,
I’m making a good start,
For, old or young, pretty or worn,
God’s joy blooms in my heart!
Job 32:7-8
I thought, ‘Age should speak; advanced years should teach wisdom.’ But it is the spirit in a person, the breath of the Almighty, that gives them understanding.