Owed to a Grecian Formula,
Though secretive and unbetrayed,
Scarce noticed, by gradations wane:
Auld sylvan strands, fine argent grey.
Rich chestnut hues, slow, unannounced,
Emerge discreet midst ashen roots,
As grizzled mantle transforms brown,
Like autumn leaves or wooded shoots.
And though ’tis pittance sacrificed
To dab small bits at break of day,
Alas, amended means, I yearn:
An aerosol, fine misting spray.
’Tis sweet to subtle reclaim youth,
To push back time, to mount attack.
A caution raised to those who dare:
Embrace thy choosing, glimpse not back.
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