That is my question.
Tired of the fuss and muss and mess
Of colored hair
And seeing the silvery sensuous shimmering tresses of friends
As they display the snowy icon of their status as elders.
It makes me wonder…
What splendid glory hides under my boxed color?
What shining sterling strands will appear
As my silver crown reveals my authentic age?
It might be just stunning…..
But what of the world, how it sees me?
Will my hoary halo shout “here’s an old lady”
To those born later, forcing the issue of our difference in age?
Colored hair is ageless hair.
Silver locks belong to the crone.
Recalling echos of “don’t trust anyone over 30”
I shrink back.
Suddenly I see
The instinctive visual divide between “us” and “them”
Imposing a difference where otherwise would be none,
Bringing the issue of age
To an ageless relationship.
Authenticity?
The real me
Is timeless.
