It's all but a number

In the end, it's all just but a number.

The age you are is a number, but says nothing about the memories.

The year it is can mark a decade, but says nothing about the accomplishments.

The paycheck you receive bi-weekly can have commas, but doesn't say anything about the amount of work it required.

The miles on your car is a string of jumbled numbers, but doesn't say anything about where you've gone and what you did there.

The number of clothes you have can lose count, but it's easy to record how many new items you just bought.

The address that marks your house has 5 numbers, but says nothing about how many people have walked in and out.

The number of crayons is usually counted in colors, but it forgets the infinite pictures that can be drawn.

The pack of white paper for your printer comes in an even number, but says nothing about the odd hours into the night you stayed up to write assignments.

The fingers we have are symmetric, but says little about the uneven things we've held and the opposing lives we've touched.

The tissues in boxes overlap each other, but doesn't say how many tears have been shed over the same issue.

The money deposited into your bank account instantaneously is an intangible number on the screen, but something so tangible for our needs.

At the end, it's nothing but lines and curves and small dots with tails.