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thoughts

Oldie


Lush black hair
silky and soft.
dangles so pretty
on my shoulders,
enhance the skin colour
granting a charm,
I look fair and young.

Losing little of the dark hue
the hair lacks luster,
still holds an intensity
tied up like a bun
rests quiet on the lower neck
producing a maturity,
I turn responsible,

Black and grey mix
grow dense in no time,
My crown takes the cue
from pepper, solid and crushed,
tends to be sparse at places
proposes a scholarly
appearance all too soon.

Greying rapidly
my hair flutters
in the air like
the waned wings
of an old bird,
bereft of a glow,
“Oldie,” they call me.