We Just Have Black Hair, And There Will Be More Stories To Tell. Poem by RIC BASTASA

to keep up with the
times, though adding
envy and confusion,
to make time standstill,
and keep memories
happily as they could be,
we finally both decide
to dye our hair, hers
in chestnut brown mine
in natural black and friends
wonder, make stories, ask
questions, what happen,
what we eat, how we travel,
or perhaps, the kindness
of money that we always
give, to the poor
and the needy.

we just have black hair,
and there will be more
stories to tell.