Delicate are the lines,
\nthat mark an inner peace,
\nharsher are the furrows,
\nthat pain and sorrow teach.<\/p>\n
No lines at all abound,
\nabout a baby\u2019s eyes,
\nstaring back at Heaven,
\nwhen leaving Paradise.<\/p>\n
Laughter\u2019s lines are curvy,
\nlike a pebble\u2019s wake,
\nspreading joy beyond itself,
\nand smoothing lines of hate.<\/p>\n
Worry\u2019s lines assemble,
\nin wavy little rows,
\npinching in upon themselves,
\nto bottle up their woes.<\/p>\n
The lines that frighten most,
\nand the lines I dread to see,
\nharken of this temporal span,
\nof fragile destiny.<\/p>\n
Yet best those lines of wisdom,
\netched deep within the face,
\ntrenched by years of coping,
\nand facing life with grace.<\/p>\n
The signature of living,
\nthese lines reflect the soul,
\nsweeter even than the lines,
\nthat bend around a smile.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Delicate are the lines, that mark an inner peace, harsher are the furrows, that pain and sorrow teach. No lines at all abound, about a…<\/p>\n