It gets better with age, that wrinkle deepens down the mouth line
To the throat, exposing your hidden strife
It does get better, with coping, learning, pretending
The smiles, leave an impression
A ghost of a memory, fond,
Close to the heart, with a rhythm
Longing for the young days
It does get better with the warmth in hugs
One for each lonely soul, always craving some more
A person to make a home, a harbour to shelter the storm
The skin, flaky and dull, waned like the moon about to go down
A whisper, time is up.
But it does get better as you grow
At loving or loathing, it is all means to an end.