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It's not the years that change you,
but the blows, the cruel winds,
the lessons of the soul that are taught,
under grey skies and unfaithful days.
It is life that intoxicates you with stories,
the soft whispers of silent sorrows,
the sad memories, the old glories,
and the shadows that leave traces.
The kisses of lies, sweet on lips,
like wilted flowers, fly away,
teach you that love is sometimes naughty,
that the truth hurts, that it hurts, loving.
The warm embraces of instants
dissipate like smoke in the wind,
embrace you in moments of distant dreams,
but sometimes, they are only a lament.
Every blow forges our being,
each tear embraces our truths,
it's not the years, it's the storms
that transform us, that make us grow.