I plucked one at age 15
to show my mother
we were the same,
that old age and wisdom
had crowned us both

I plucked one at age 33,
the only strand of its kind
left untouched by the bottle
of vanity that was supposed
to erase all signs of the
very thing I had been
so proud of 18 years before.

I am now 39, only a smidge wiser
than at age 33, but miles away
from that spirited little teenager
with the tell-tale grey streaks.

I don’t pluck them anymore.

Copyright © 2012 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved


About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to grey

  1. Tami Eldridge says:

    I really like your poems. They are neat.

  2. michael says:

    Stumbled upon your blog. Bookmarked it, can’t remember where from. But am so glad to have done so.

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