Age

I look at the mirror, what do I see there
Inbetween all the brown ones, I spot a grey hair
It looks lost like a sad stray
But when exactly did it turn grey

I keep on staring at my face
And realise with utter disgrace 
Not only do I have grey hair
But wrinkles showing everywhere

Oh how old have I become
It feels like time has truly run
My conscience battling it's own war
Death soon knocking on my door

But today is not the day
And I keep Mr. Death at bay
By telling him: Be on your way!