At the library, Saturday,
waiting for a friend.
People come & pass that way;
some run, some walk, some wend…
Partners holding hands went by,
children with their dads,
scooters, skateboards, bikes, and I
must have noticed “heads”.
Maybe some redheads, and black,
curly like an afro.
Brown & black hair holding hands.
All hair-kinds we know.
Then a pair of “twins” came through.
Not really twins you see.
In years gone past it wouldn’t do
what now it did in me.
It seemed like a high-lighter
had taken to each head.
Or even something brighter,
yet regal, and bless-ed.
A pearl crayon on his head
matched the same on hers.
I wondered if the colours bled
each year as life occurs,
and wanted, as I grow old,
to grow in what would match
such a crown of pure white-gold;
O, gracious-wisdom hatch!
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