Mary blossoms at sixty-five, A gentle force, alive and spry. Her spirit dances, still so young, In harmony with songs unsung. Her smile is timeless, bright with grace, A beacon in this earthly place. Though younger than her dear Mark's years, She guides him through with love that steers. Together, hand in hand they roam, In laughter's echoes, find their home. For age, they know, cannot confine The heart's eternal, ageless rhyme.