The Gift Of Time Poem by Lacie Hebert

Age arrives without a sound, 
One day you're young, the next it's found.
A silver thread within your hair, 
A little more wisdom resting there.

At first we count what time has taken:
The strength, the speed, the dreams forsaken.
But later comes a gentler view
Of all the things the years renew.

Patience. Perspective. Grace.
And knowing what deserves your space.
The young possess tomorrow's light.
The old know how to use it right.