Gray

By Andrew R. Duckworth

Another gray hair
Plucked from my beard.
Dad has a head full.
Here I am waiting for the day
For all the gray
To appear.

What is it?
Stress?
Genes?
The faster progression of time?
Time seems to be shooting away
With every new pluck of gray.
I’m getting older.
But 34 years 
Shouldn’t bring a man tears
At the faster passing of time.

Some day, I expect
I’ll have a head of white
As I recollect
The quick passage of time.