Each Year Another Gray Hair

Middle age men, look in this clear mirror
and spot those gray strands of hair:
they may seem ugly, but they bring wisdom;
look again, you are still vibrant,
and accomplish more than those who won't dare:
tell them to live as you have... 


Lines on these foreheads are the furrows that
make us so conscious of our existence,
and death is not far from life's painful truth;
we think of the future as a time yet to come,
but we live it this very moment...not realizing it:  
and with spirit and courage, we race to stay alive...


Each year another gray hair is added to our increasing age;
can we accept mortality, and not reject discontent and rage? 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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