They fall, a little and little each day,
And a lot more,
My hairs.
It has learnt to live my way, I guess.
What shall I fear more?
Soon to disappear my hairs,
Or more sooner my life?

It went too dull, too lifeless,
Not a long ago.
Easy it was ,for me to decide,
A little color should not turn out to be bad.
I painted it red,
Yet not covering it all,
Too much of colour and life,
Not something I can really bear.
Which red are you thinking of?
The rose? Blood? Or the sun, fading away?
I thought of the sun more, which alone can have beauty in fading too, unlike me.
Blood, I don't think of, not much left anyway.

And there I made it,
        The mistake.
How could I even think of, colours?
The darkness is way too deep,
For colours to occupy it's place.
Let it be black,
My life?