Silver

When the white came

I cursed it

I pulled it

I tried to hide it.

I felt ashamed

The white was telling me

You’re getting old

You’re getting weak.

Other heads won’t turn to gaze at you

You will blend into a sea of white

With no distinction

They will call you ‘dear’

Like the other white heads.

But I chose silver

Shiny, glinting, reflecting

Freeing me

To say what I want

To love how I want

To dress like a hippie

And not wear a bra.

I sometimes say

The F-word.

And I like it.