Looking at the mirror

I was shocked

To find a grey hair

(Amidst my beloved black ones)

The hidden scoundrel

Stealthily growing

Since, God knows when

Should I pluck it out

Root, stock and barrel?

But what about the ten

That will grow 

At its funeral

And stay behind

Seeking venegeance?

It is better

To paint it over

But I have heard

'Tis bad for kidneys

And what if

The paint is not water-proof

It will leave me

Exposed

On a rainy day.

I should just ignore it

Pretend

It is not mine

But what if

It is contagious

And it will

Certainly grow

Longer and longer

Coiling all around me

Like a python.

No. No !

All that won't do

I should simply agree

'I am a greying old man'

(And thank God

I am not bald.)