My hair is so thin
and so fine,
so unstructured
by aging design.
A blanket woven
from my hair
could not warm
a body cold
from aging blood
flowing so slow.
All of a piece
are these changes
noted and coded
to bring the message
that life is also this:
so fine and
unstructured
except in my mind.
I brush my hair and
watch it fall
loosened from its frame
like my muscle and bone.
The stories it tells
as it catches the light
separating so many colors
into memory’s delight.
If this be aging
I welcome it close.
Aging brings wisdom
to bear each loss
before the final
loss comes and I
am finally bald.
annarino writes 