White Hair?!

White Hair?!

White hair?
White hair?!
No, that can’t be there.
I stand and stare
It isn’t fair
It simply can’t be there.

One might say, “Perhaps it’s grey?”
Perchance were this another day
I would simply nod and say,
“That may be so; some grey’s okay”
(Lest I fall into dismay)
But, my friend, that’s not today

That glimmer in my bathroom mirror
The blinding white so bright and clear
Summing up my every year
With this most unwelcome veneer
“I cannot dye, I mustn’t shear!”
I say with countenance austere,
“The hairs that highlights white endear,
Must stay affixed, despite my fear.”

And so I find
Within my mind
An echo fills the air:
White hair?
White hair?!
No, that can’t be there.

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