My little brother spotted
a strand of white hair
on me, laughing,
a simple Google told me
it was the worrying
about people
and what will they think
of me if I told them
I use them on my verses.
The reason I avoid get-togethers.
I don't want to tell them
in a group what I do
with their mementos
that I forever hold.
I prefer letting them
find out, spot, remember
alone---
as I let my white hair live,
I don't bother pulling it out
for now.
I could handle a little bit of worrying.
YOU ARE READING
Live
PoetryOur hearts are brave as fire, minds gentle as earth, dreams are fluid as water, and our souls are as free as the wind. (Poetry and Prose) #2 of the end-live-begin trilogy.
