Between Me and My Mirror
quatrains
Mirror, mirror, your answer please
sound it with your kindest voice.
I deal, dear Face, with expertise;
ask, I fear you’ll not rejoice.
Mirror, are there gray hairs dancing
there among my blackest blacks?
Face, I see your foes advancing
waving little silver plaques
in boldest print and voices loud:
"Gray hairs never, ever quit."
"Gray is stylish; gray can be proud."
"Lie not, dye not, give, submit."
Mirror, mirror, your answer please
what are my alternatives?
Face, your gray is no disease
cease, desist preventatives.
Glaring roots and ghastly color
leave you sickened with regret
Let gray come, life could be duller
thank the Lord, you're not bald, yet.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment