I was sitting watching the TV, when i heard my youngest say <br />have you looked in the mirror Dad! by God your getting grey! <br />your starting to look old Dad 'I was under attack' <br />I've just put a rinse through my hair, do you fancy going black? <br /> <br />no! thats quite alright son, i wear my grey hair with pride <br />Then he put his hand upon on my head, that was when i sighed <br />his hand was sheathed in a rubber glove, it was soaked in dye <br />so sorry! look what I've done! sorry i have to fly! <br /> <br />I looked into the mirror, horrified was i <br />he'd covered half my head, in the blackest dye <br />theres only one thing for it! i had to do the rest <br />for me moustache and me eyebrows i did a little test <br /> <br />i used the tip of an ear bud and gently stroked each hair <br />it seemed to take forever, by then i didn't care <br />next morning my reflection I'd put on such a glow <br />i shook my head and stated 'i look like a Gigolo' <br /> <br />my workmates weren't so kind! John didn't understand <br />for him my feelings didn't count, this was the promised land! <br />the ribbing that he gave me, it was handed on a plate <br />and everyone we met that day, the story he'd relate <br /> <br />ave yer seen my mate 'the Gigolo' a big smile across his face <br />what a bloody wally he looks, John has no tact or taste! <br />well he spun it out as long as he could, forever comes to mind! <br />Sadly! humiliations cup was all he left behind!<br /><br />Bob Gibson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-touch-of-colour/
