The other night, I was pretty horrified to find TWO GRAY HAIRS on my head. My mom has very little gray, and my dad doesn’t really have hair. I was so shocked I had to write a poem about it. I like to laugh at myself (see previous posts).
Two Gray Hairs
By Sara Marie Allen
Two gray hairs upon my head,
The final sign my youth is dead.
First, it was the extra pounds,
Then forehead wrinkles when I frown,
My joints have pain,
My eyes, they strain,
The past gets jumbled in my brain.
The outlook on my future’s grim;
This is not a fight I’ll win…
For now, I pluck out all the gray,
Pretending I’m still young today.
Writer's Block 
You have inspired me. Gray hair plucking will commence shortly.
I’ll have to limit how many get “plucked” before I move onto dyeing… I don’t want to go bald or anything:)
Only two? Love, love, love the poem. Pluck is one way to go….Color is much easier and less painful, but not free.
Thanks, Karen!
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