The crime is not being old
But looking your age

Chances not given
Doors closed
Upon sight

My gray helmet
Announcing to all
My path

My experience
My education
My success
Dwindle down
To a number
Of years

I am surprised
Disappointed
In myself
As I reach for the hair color
To wash away
All I have worked for

Later
I look in the mirror
younger
I smile
Knowing
I am still me.

Connie Joyce

Leave a Reply