haiku for the day:
gray, white, silvery
snipped tips, evidence scattered
post-it notes of age
~ ~ ~
Overdue for a haircut, I stopped this afternoon for a trim.
Against the backdrop of the black cloth draped over me, the hair showering down from each ‘snip’ of the scissors looked as if it were from someone else’s head. Surely those gray, white, silvery bits were not from me?
But alas! Each month’s haircut the silvery threads increase!
I don’t notice them so much in my once-blonde (but nevermore) reflection in the mirror each day.
Silver is a fine color.