Grey Hair

Out of the old penny copper
of my brown hair,
a brushstroke of silver starlight
shimmering from my temples--
the proud badge of years rehearsed:
twinkling faintly in the morning light,
and placed just where my mother has hers.
Truly, in one new and unlined,
must be the sign of a virtuoso;
or perhaps time was lost
in those late nights
twirling among moonbeams.

12-1-08