918. Youth has gone, like dews on the breeze,

SONNET 918
By JH Sayyar
Youth has gone, like dew on the breeze,
Its laughter faded in the halls of thought;
The mirror tells with lines and quiet tease
Of battles with the years, time has wrought.
Where once the blush of dawn on my cheek,
Now furrows trace the stories I have known;
The strength of limbs, once bold, never weak,
Now yields to grace in age, and softer tone.
Though the bloom of spring has slipped away,
A deeper beauty blossoms in its stead—
The wisdom born from every yesterday,
The peace in truths that younger hearts dread

Let time inscribe its lines without regret,
For I have lived—and life remembers yet