Old And Gray

Most people may not believe when I say

That I want to grow old with hair of silvery gray.

Wrinkles may not make me look fair

But that’s something I really don’t care.

I see wrinkles as proof of the life I’ve lived and the struggles I’ve overcome

Proof I did my best, I didn’t give up, didn’t succumb.

My wrinkly skin would serve as maps of my adventures

And perhaps, as well as my misadventures.

Oh to be old with hair of silvery gray,

To reach that age, is what I pray.

©Maria Michaela

Stained

I used to see colors of different hues

Then I only saw all blues

Clouds once white now heavy gray

I think I’ll sulk here and stay

Love once pure, now it’s stained

Everything lost, nothing gained

When I age and my hair is gray,

Will you be there to stand by me, will you stay?
When I become annoying and noisy,
Will you understand even when I can be a bit bossy?
When my hands have seen better days,
Will you still hold them anyway?
If my memory fades and I often forget,
Will you tell me our story so I may remember it?
When all else fails, when everything breaks,
Will you show our love is true and not one to fake?

Oh When Skies Are Gray!

Unexpectedly it happened

And I seized the moment

He held my hand in more ways than one

He always made me feel special

 

Where one broke me, but made me strong

He always took care of me

Though I do wish to be strong, I too want to be treated like a fragile china

 

Thankful I am to both men

They don’t know how much they’ve changed me

But when the skies grow dark

I know who makes me happiest the most

Grey Eyes

eyes of grey tear me apart

the longingness, the emptiness, the mischievous smile

behind those eyes of yours

crippling my very soul to the brink of extinction

 

what do those eyes of yours say?

I couldn’t quite figure out.

i’m falling into the void, at a loss….

…for words are nothing compared to those eyes

 

it sees eternity, an endless serenity

my chaotic mind twitches at the sight of it

oh! how deep and dark are those grey eyes

that hold me, that confuses me

 

yet still I can’t help but be drawn to its magic

it’s power over me is strong

and I still can’t unerstand what they might

or would ever mean as they stare back into

these brown eyes of mine

 

what do they see?

I can’t help but wonder……

Blue Jeans Gray

blue like the deepest sea

turned gray because of dirt or ash

used to its fullest potential

until its breaking point

broken and beaten

torn and sewed back together again

dust it off, wash it out

the color quickly fading

thrown out when no longer useful

others are kept as priced possessions

 

life can be like a blue jeans

it’s up to you what you’ll do

once it turns to gray

Gracefully

I want to be wiser when I grow old

The chapters of my life, I will have told

I don’t want to be young forever, what good will that be?

To never mature and learn and be free?

No, that’s not what I want, that’s not what I plan

I’ll do my best to grow old, I know I can

Oh to be old, with wrinkles and gray hair

I couldn’t think of what would look more fair

To be able to reach the age of seventy

That would be a gift of plenty

I want to be like Betty White

Who grows old gracefully, such a shinning light