Roots

A common complaint I hear

From people who dye their hair 

Is about touching up the roots

They've given me a scare.

"It's such a pain" they cry,

"Every few weeks it's salon time,

To disguise the  roots you know,

It costs a pretty dime."

"Don't do it!" they warn me,

"Once you colour you are stuck

With a life-long vicious cycle, 

Try to camouflage, hide and tuck."

I see my own reflection, 

Study my head for advancing grey,

Decide when it reaches my temples

Is when I'll enter the fray.

I'll grow old so will my roots 

I'll colour my hair in every hue

That way my hair will be happy 

And in my mirror I

'll enjoy the view.