Here is a nice little poem from a book titled Fireside Musings by Thomas Wheatley. It’s meaningful to me because my Mom, who is now 84, gave me the book.
December’s Harvest
It seems we’ve reached our Golden Years – December, some folks say.
Sometimes we feel the aches; Our hair has turned to gray.
We’ve harvested a lot of joy, In life’s symbolic year.
And so far, through November, We have reaped a lot of cheer.
But there are joys that come with age, And some that we recall
Are all our children fine and fit, And grandkids growing tall.
Each time we gather as a group, We have a merry fest
December’s Harvest, we are sure, Will be the very best!