The Silver Ghost
I find it so strange
that I live in a place
Where value is counted
by lines on a face
Where age and its wisdom
mean nothing to most
With silver haired beings
unseen,, like a ghost
For youth and its glory
will not last for long
And one day, the mirror
will not get it wrong
And so by the number
of lines I’ve achieved
The riches I’ve gained
the losses I’ve grieved
Being ghosted or not
I must be content
In knowing my value
one hundred percent
Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2022
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