Graying
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Silver strands amid the gold—
And the gold is merely polished bronze,
A meager attempt to redeem lost youth
By stripping off the dark residue of years.
If lighter hair is a sign of wisdom
It is not surprizing that my hair has grown darker
As my mind became burdened by foolish-headedness.
Gray hair is my namesake.
Perhaps the wiry strands, though annoying,
Signal my return to myself,
To my heritage.
All my life
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