Wednesday, 10 September 2014



Strands of grey

Puts my mind in a fray!

Seeds a fright in the mind!

Soon youth will be behind!

Like a grey hound,

Few strands of grey hair unsettles me.

I feel incapacitated by fear…

Fear of old age looming large.

As if face to face with the hound of Baskerville!

The horrendous  hound is old age.

Why can’t old age signs be kept at bay?

Let me  bask in the sunshine of youth and make hay,

Lest it pass away and slip into old age.

O! why the strands of old age come my way,

Only when I am living life King-size?

Can I keep even a hair of mine from turning white?

With all my might I will it to remain the same.

Unmindful of my plight the strands of grey keep multiplying

I cannot arrest them but I can colour them! Happy,

I dye my hair in different hues.

I am brown, light brown, red or burgundy head,

Competing with the fresh youth,

Who clearly see me through the ruse,

And greet me, “Hello aunty!”

Good Grief! So much for the grey anxiety!




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