The Art of Aging
Holds mystery in the folds
Unfurls surprises from the hidden
Places of memories from
Girlhood, childhood and inbetween
Details
From long ago move from sepia toned
Images
Imagine a reframing of a life
Displayed in all its glory
Revealing what it stored up
Rooted in deep
Living
Someplace near a haloed edge
We teeter on the brink
And sense a gilding
Brush stroked over moments, laced
With pain and grief
Goodness gathers up the tattered
Faded
Dark age spots
Replaced now
A birth occurs within
Her
Life unfolding, wait
In case of emergency you may break
The glass
It is time
Emerges
Rotates on the very edges of
A new and different dawn
Age will take her rightful place
A crown
Up on her head
Jewels for every moment
She waited years for her new birth
Joy,
In the end
The art of aging, a masterpiece
No science can explain.
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elizabeth w. marshall 
I agree with your logic on aging. A wise person enjoy the Winter of life. Thank you for the excellent poem.