Going Grey
A villanelle
I will not fight th’encroach of grey
For wisdom also comes with years,
My head held high at each birthday.
With grace I yield to time’s headway,
And let the hue of age appear;
I will not fight th’encroach of grey.
I will not fight th’encroach of grey
For wisdom also comes with years,
My head held high at each birthday.
With grace I yield to time’s headway,
And let the hue of age appear;
I will not fight th’encroach of grey.
Words have always been my art. They dance for me and sing for me. They laugh for me and cry for me. They are my paint and brushes. They are my clay.