Golden Years Poem by Charlotte L. Weeks

Our golden years are not years of old age. We are the
seed planted in our mother’s womb and we began our golden years in our mothers tomb.
So tiny and beautiful we had to be. Planted there by a seed. Day-by-day our seed grew and grew, until the form of life began to show.
The process of our golden years are now shown. The seed of life is now grown. We enter into life as a tiny bloom. Day-by-day we change and change. One day the blossom is never the same. Our emotions, minds, and bodies change day-by-day.
The ovulation of nature planned it this way.
Stop lamenting about our old age - all flowers have a period they must fade. Yet their seeds drift on through the air - to make room for other blossoms else where. Now let us look back over our golden years. Without regret, without a fear, remember there are seeds we too have planted there - they too will grow into fading flowers.