When the Hair Turns Gray

Thou still swing in palms of others And cease not to wee wee on backs of mothers With endless tears when on shoulders of fathers Enjoying the freedom before your hair turns Gray No words demand thy need but cries Then the germination of voices that luck no lies Becoming a teen, restless spies Who doth explore ere their old age The gray colour awaits for your hair That graduates thee for self good care For thou then art wise on life's voyage stuck nowhere Till you find the Gray hat that symbolize long life A pool of tales your head shall be Around the evening fire, embarrassing the linkled face of thee In a ring of offspring that loves to hear but does not agree Thinking old man's words are jokes of the day Laugh not upon looking at Gray-haired fathers For thou still swing in palms of others And cease not to wee wee on backs of mothers Yet have no idea of what it takes to be wise.