His eyes are windows
weathered by age;
showing the monkey bars
he grew up climbing.
Summer playgrounds,
dancing in sunsets,
shining with mischief.
His hands are tools
wrinkled by the rain;
scarred with reminders
that would never go away.
Sword fighting with sticks,
falling to the ground,
building his childhood.
His smile is laughter
still playing on his face;
happiness marked in lines
like the age on a tree.
Jokes shared in abundance,
pranks in good health,
friends being friends.
His heart is memory
that he shares freely;
his family old and new
treasured all the same.
Loved ones,
hugs and kisses,
time well spent.
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