Time has touched and rearranged the dark man's face
Time has increased his worldly knowledge like a scholar
His speech is the windsong that flows like the rivers
His hair has been graced my time, like the snow
His hands what precious paths
His mind of extraordinary beauty
A conqueror he is, in every sense
I reached with respect to touch his hands with traces of love
written on both palms
He never grew older just wiser