It’s funny how something simple can take on a different appearance under different lighting conditions. Our granddaughter was the flower girl at a wedding last week, and while she is beautiful and priceless, as we were twisted in our seats, waiting to see the bride’s grand entrance, I found myself looking at my wife’s hair. In the light of the church, each streak of silver was almost glowing. I was so struck by its beauty, I had to reach out and touch it.

by Mike Patrick

String of pearls

Flicker image by Danielle Miller Jewelry

Her hair, now dry from early morning’s rain,
is showing flecks of silver, it reflects the sun again.
A few strands belong to children, a few to advancing age,
and a few belong to wisdom, released from reason’s cage,
but most belong to my resolve, and to my needy hand.
I see beauty in her silver; every twisted strand.

This entry was posted in Family, Iamb, Love, Mixed Meter, Poetry, Rhyming and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to SILVER STRAND

  1. vivinfrance says:

    I love this Mike – but then I would, having silver hair myself. It’s good to see you writing again after your labours.

    The poem is wonderful, but do you think it would be a good idea to cut the “is” from the last line – I feel that the rhythm would be smoother.

  2. ladynimue says:

    Wow !! Stunning !!

    I so miss reading your wonderful posts ’cause of my busy schedule .. Hope you are doing well 🙂

  3. pmwanken says:

    This was a very touching poem, even before it started. The tender moment nicely captured in the intro set a perfect stage for the poem.

    Have you checked out Buddah Moskowitz’s new blog… is a place for you to record your work for us all to hear! Check it out…call in one (or lots) of your poems!! Share in the fun!! 🙂

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