just like the rings around the bark of a tree, the wrinkles that lie softly upon an elder's face explain without what they have been through. Each wrinkle is a silent story, a memory of the past. There are wrinkles put in place by years of smiling; years of tears; of anger. There are wrinkles caused by the brow rising slightly upwards, with concern and fright. Memories of a child falling of his bike, hidden behind the wrinkles of history. Wrinkles create by the greatest smile worn by a proud father walking his prescious daughter down the aisle. And when an elder passes, new wrinkles are created; caused by the days of non stop cries of mourning and tears of grief, and lines of laughter upon recalling a fallen one's inspirational past. And with death and cries and laughter comes a new generation of stories, and memories, and wrinkles.