Silver Strands
When I first found the silver strands, I felt a jab of fear.
Would ugly age spots follow soon, wrinkles and failing ear?
My dark locks were my pride and joy. I didn't want to lose them.
I glared at offending silver strands, with no thought to excuse them.
My vanity would not allow these derelicts to stay.
I gave each one a painful yank, for treason they would pay.
Just for sheer spite they started multiplying very fast.
I knew I had to change my ways or my tresses wouldn't last.
With despair my tired beautician said, "It's either do or dye."
And with ego trumping common sense we gave the dye a try.
My family bet each week on just what shade my hair would be
As I fought the aging battle with a brave duplicity.
My daughter thought it funny when an unsuspecting Mister
Tried just a bit to flirt with me and mistook me for her sister.
But now she finds no humor in it, in any way or another,
For since she's let her hair turn gray, he thinks she is my mother
won 8th in contest
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment