Too Young To Be Old
Each wrinkle aligned with silver hair,
of age, I have become aware.
Never thought I would grow old,
bones these days are brittle and cold.
For every crisis, a wrinkle bloomed,
it started, I thought, way too soon.
Dispassionate life does not care,
this fact apparent I became aware.
First silver strand pulled from head,
turning grey? sooner be dead.
Process is insidious extremely slow,
so walking these days at my own tempo.
Decades later things viewed differently,
as age increased I had an epiphany.
Silver mane is badge worn with pride.
Wrinkles and hair peacefully abide.
Copyright © Delice Arleen Skelly | Year Posted 2022
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