Hairbrush

Hairbrush

My hairbrush yeilds a nest of coarse grey hair

Not sun bleached highlights,

Not swimming pool stressed,

But unmistakable old woman's grey.

My shower drain yields clumps of coarse grey hair

Not a few stragglers washed loose

Not a mixture of yours and mine

But unmistakable lengths of old woman's grey.

My hair has always been my crowning glory

Sometimes long, sometimes short

Sometimes auburn, a long time blonde

But mostly light brown, and always thick and shiny.

I'm coming round slowly to this new me

This old lady looking back at me from the mirror

This inevitable morphing into my mum, my nan,

But oh, how I long for just a few more years of youth.

Everyday Poetry