Sonnet Sunday 15: The Gray Hair

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Back in college, grey hairs were a sort of badge of honor. Theoretically you earned them by working soooo hard at classes, or taking classes and working a job, or whatever. These were all phrased as complaints, but they were actually bragging about how hard they were working.

Of course, in your 20s you also only had one or two gray hairs. It’s less cute now, in my 30s, and I can only imagine that the more visible they get, the more annoyed about them I’ll be.

Or I’ll go for that full “platinum” look. Pinterest tells me that’s a thing!

The Gray Hair

Written sometime 2002-2003

“My one sign of maturity,” you say,
Whenever I desire to pluck it out.
For some odd reason you want it to stay,
As if it grants an increase in your clout
Among our group of friends; like you’ve become
A wiser person than the rest of us.
And as I pinch the hair between my thumb
And forefinger, and you begin to fuss,
I try to understand why you desire
To keep this one grey hair upon your head.
Your solidarity—this single wire?
Is individuality a thread?
There’s more to you than just what we can see—
But since you treasure this, I’ll let it be.

Posted in poetry

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