Between Me And My Mirror Poem by Reason A. Poteet

quatrain, ABAB

Mirror, mirror, the answer please
sound it with your softest voice.
I deal, dear Face, with expertise.
Ask on, I fear you'll not rejoice.

Mirror, are there gray hairs dancing
in among my blackest blacks?
Face, I see your foes advancing.
They're waving little silver plaques

in bold print, revealing loudly:
Gray hairs never, ever quit.
Gray is in, wear it proudly.
Lie not, dye not, give up, submit.

Mirror, mirror, the answer please
What are my best alternatives?
Face it, gray is not some disease
for treatment nor preventatives.

Glaring roots and ghastly color
will leave you appalled with regret
Let gray come, life could be duller
thank God, you're not bald, not yet.