A poem from a dear friend Anne

The Lines on My Face

To his grandson, the old man said,

The wrinkles on my face

Are a treasure map to my wealth.

Revealing a life rich in experience

Accompanied by good health.

In these lines you see where I’ve

Laughed and cried.

Moments that seemed fleeting

Have instead made a permanent mark.

Right where all can see, especially me,

In the mirror and in my memory.

Some think being rich has to do with a bank account,

But now that I’ve made it here,

I realize what has made my life dear.

It is the deposits of love made by family and friends

Into this bank I call my heart.

It's knowing that I’ve mattered

That has sustained me from the start.

So even if I look old and feeble,

And perhaps not much of a sight to see,

Never see me and feel pity,

You should be so lucky.

To have lived a life

Through both joy and strife

Graced by loved ones

Willing to share and see things through.

Their value has appreciated with age

The way all things with value do.

So here I sit, old and wealthy,

Content in these years.

And if you see past the lines on my face,

You’ll see a treasure of happiness in their place.

Mary F. Van der Linden