I creak and groan when I stretch

I creak and groan when I stretch,

a reminder in every joint,

each crack a sonnet of stories,

written in the lines on my skin.

Catching my reflection,

a stranger stares back,

the face familiar yet new,

each mark like a badge,

a weathered tree standing tall,

bark splitting but unyielding.

Time flows like water,

washing over me in waves,

every laugh line a curve of joy,

each sag a memory—

a map of every season lived.

I watch as the years turn,

like leaves in an autumn gust,

reminded that aging is just a song,

a dance I didn’t choose,

yet step by step, I learn to sway.