I like looking into the faces of the aged. (Shut up…I know you were going to say that I must love my bathroom mirror.) Anyway, here is my favorite poem about aging (“When You Are Old” by W.B Yeats) in which a young girl is told what it will be like as an old woman to reflect on past years and loves:
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Well, it’s sweet until the love fled part. !! I also like their faces, especially the first woman in the post. Time can be cruel, but sometimes there is still softness and kind eyes.
I Don't Get It 
I agree 100 percent. I have been around 69 years and I wouldn’t mind at least another 20.
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😀
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I see glasses were compulsory for women in San Antone.
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It sure looks that way! I’m wearing mine right now.
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Me too.
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I like looking into the faces of the aged. (Shut up…I know you were going to say that I must love my bathroom mirror.) Anyway, here is my favorite poem about aging (“When You Are Old” by W.B Yeats) in which a young girl is told what it will be like as an old woman to reflect on past years and loves:
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
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Well, it’s sweet until the love fled part. !! I also like their faces, especially the first woman in the post. Time can be cruel, but sometimes there is still softness and kind eyes.
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Yup, it’s a bit melancholy. But, hey, Yeats.
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Yep- totally beats the Big Sleep.
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