Losing the Race
I once was young and brave and bold.
I now am frightened, shy and old.
It sneaked upon me suddenly.
I though it would take a while,
And kept on living with a smile.
Old age could not catch up with me.
All signs of it I would not see.
Growing old was simply not my style.
Until noticing
a single white hair growing
in my tresses so dark brown.
Swiftly plucking it,
a dozen grew in its place.
as age winked its drooping eye.
4/2017
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2017
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