I looked at the mirror today and just noticed a few more strands of grey. No matter how I pluck them out, they grow again and again and again, not knowing they are unwelcome to join the others.

I found those lines sitting in my draft post - from 2009!  I have 16 unfinished blogposts and will attempt to post them up as and when the inspiration to continue with it hits me.  They feel so detached from me now - "Did I write that?  Why did I start that and in what relation it is to?"  Those opening lines were written then, can I bring it back to present and make it relevant to me now?

I can definitely relate to grey hairs and unfortunately, relevant.  I shall continue on from the post above:

I looked at the mirror today and just noticed a few more strands of grey. No matter how I pluck them out, they grow again and again and again, not knowing they are unwelcome to join the others.

I don't stop them now. I can't.

Some wear them with pride.  Like a crown of wisdom.  Some with embarrassment - "I need to see my colourist - my roots are showing!"

Don't stop me now.  You can't stop them.

In the end, we all turn grey.  The grey will turn white.  The whites will stay.  In the end, we are ashes and dust.

Petal P. Rose