His Shine

His hair shown in silvery shade
some might take it as an aged weakness,
but inside the heart of a hunter pumped,
and his mind was ever cunning and clever
for the winters had come with their fury,
yet he had prowled enough
survived each season
those wrinkles were etchings
like scars of time.

Inside he was still twenty
the days hadn’t withered his hunger
over life or his passion that loved
searching wildernesses in life,
eyes that could gaze into any forest of faces
never rush to worry about his prey
because now he stood with wisdom
restrained of impulse
ready to use the prowess of his maturity
so he could win against younger foes.

It all was what kept him going
when others might have given up,
inside that spirit teemed with thriving power
easily ignored by the ones
who assumed silver was a frailty
instead the sign of his refinement.