By Janet Caleb
Call me old and gray, It’s a mixture of black and white.
I still glow, though I’m pale, But contained in my gray hairs are fossils of wisdom from when time began.
My cracked feet telling stories of my journeys. Leaving behind footprints buried in sands of sorrows.
Paved in my veins are scars of wars, Fighting my body to accept my willing spirit So when you see my gray hairs falling down like leaves in autumn, Remember they fall that yours may grow.