That shining silver strand of hair

Reminds me of moonlight

Soothing,

Mysterious,

And radiant.

'

A lock,

That enhances,

The already existing beauty,

Of an old man,

Or an old woman.

'

How when a smile blooms

On their faces,

Of a criss cross of wrinkles

From here to there;

This silver lock of hair

Gives them

An angelic look.

'

These curly silver locks

That embellish

Their heads;

A book of wisdom,

A wardrobe of awe,

A garden of ever fragrant flowers.

'

The contents that have a power,

To leave a legacy in this

World

And the Hereafter.

'

The souls

Made up of Silver,

That stays strong,

For today and tomorrow.

'

How can you,

How can you,

How can you,

Toss these beings into what you call old age homes?

How can you,

How can you,

How can you,

Push your own parents as they grow old out of your houses?

How can you,

How can you,

How can you,

Dare to say they don't have any value at all?

'

Who are you to say that,

When you will be one of them too,

One day?

'

Will you dye your hair?

Ashamed of living life,

Earning experiences,

Learning lessons,

Throughout the years?

'

How can you,

How can you,

How can you,

Not appreciate the beauty around you?

'

Sad.

This is sad.

This is nothing,

But sad.

***

©VioletEden