HER GRAY

When I met my wife,

Her hair was black as jet.

She was only twenty years old,

And the prettiest girl I ever met.

I do not know if I was the reason,

Her hair soon turned to gray.

Even though she called it blonde,

And with dye she kept it her own way.

In those days, wigs were in,

And she had not a few.

She was partial to blonde and red,

And why I never knew

Sometimes I did not recognize her,

While others were completely lost.

She could change her temperament,

For very little cost.

Now her hair has turned to gold,

The gray she still will hide.

I say it makes you look mature,

But gray is against her pride.

I do not worry about her color.

As my hair is now gray and thin.

I just tell her if she was gray,

People would think us twins.

Brady C. Ervin