Image by Juraj Berta from Pixabay

After Forty: A Woman’s Song
At forty, she rises, a phoenix of grace,
With lines of wisdom etched on her face.
Her heart beats strong, her spirit refined,
A woman reborn, with a powerful mind.
The world may whisper, “She’s past her prime,”
But she dances boldly, defying time.
For beauty now lives in her radiant soul,
A light that shines, steady and whole.
Her scars are her stories, her laughter her crown,
She walks with a strength that won’t back down.
No longer bound by the need to please,
She speaks her truth, with effortless ease.
The roles she’s played, the hats she’s worn,
A mother, a daughter, a leader reborn.
But now she claims her rightful place,
Her dreams take flight in boundless space.
She’s learned to say “no” without regret,
To savor the moments she won’t forget.
Her passions rekindle, her joy runs deep,
A garden of dreams she’s nurtured to reap.
The mirror may show her a changing face,
But not her courage, her strength, her grace.
For every wrinkle is a victory won,
A testament to the battles she’s done.
Her friendships grow richer, her circle more tight,
Built on trust, on laughter, on shared delight.
She sheds the shallow, embraces the real,
And treasures the bonds that help her heal.
Through challenges faced, through triumphs earned,
She’s learned that peace is a gift not spurned.
Her body may tire, her steps may slow,
But her spirit blooms, a perpetual glow.
At forty, she knows the power of rest,
The beauty of stillness, the joy of her quest.
She seeks not perfection, but progress each day,
And finds her own path, her own unique way.
This is her time, her moment, her song,
To live as she wishes, where she belongs.
A woman at forty, her story unfolds,
A masterpiece painted in hues of gold.
At forty, her tears are no longer concealed,
Each drop a memory, each wound revealed.
Yet in her eyes, there’s a fire that glows,
A warmth that only the wise heart knows.
Her hands have held joy, her arms borne pain,
She’s danced in the sunshine, and walked through rain.
Every scar is a chapter, every ache a verse,
A testament to a love both blessing and curse.
The echoes of dreams once silenced in fear,
Now rise like a melody, vibrant and clear.
She holds no shame for the roads she’s crossed,
For even in loss, she’s never truly lost.
The mirror may whisper of youth that’s fled,
But she sees a woman whose soul has been fed.
Fed by the love she’s given and gained,
By the storms she’s weathered, by the life she’s claimed.
She loves with a depth that defies the years,
Her laughter a symphony, her cries sincere.
The girl she once was still lives in her heart,
But the woman she is plays the most sacred part.
Her nights are softer, her mornings bright,
She no longer fears the fading light.
For in every dusk, a dawn is near,
Each moment is precious, each breath sincere.
At forty, she sings a song of her own,
A melody carved from the life she’s known.
It’s tender, it’s fierce, it’s fragile, it’s strong,
A hymn to herself—her journey, her song.
At forty, she stands, a warrior at peace,
Her battles behind, yet her growth won’t cease.
She knows now the value of a quiet mind,
Of moments unhurried, of time unconfined.
Her laughter echoes with a richer sound,
Each chuckle a treasure her soul has found.
No longer chasing the fleeting applause,
She finds her worth in her own noble cause.
Her arms have cradled both love and despair,
Her heart’s been shattered, yet learned to repair.
With every fall, she’s risen more high,
Her tears not a weakness but wings to the sky.
The dreams she deferred, now rise to the light,
Their colors more vivid, their meaning more bright.
She writes her own story, with ink of resolve,
A journey of courage, as mysteries evolve.
At forty, she sees the beauty of grace,
Not in perfection, but in life’s embrace.
The mess, the chaos, the calm after storm,
Each moment has shaped her, each has transformed.
She cherishes silence, the whispers within,
The lessons of stillness where strength begins.
Her voice now carries a steady refrain,
A melody born of both joy and pain.
Her heart beats steady, her vision is clear,
She treasures the now, holds it near.
For she’s learned that time is a fleeting guest,
To savor each moment is life’s greatest quest.
This is her anthem, her soul’s gentle cry,
A woman reborn, unafraid to fly.
At forty, her life is a radiant flame,
Burning with purpose, unyielding, untamed.

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