Grey Hairs

I had just been to the toilet,
And while I was washing my hands,
I looked into the mirror,
And a tremor struck my hands.
For standing there before me,
Returning my horrified stares,
Was a person besieged by,
A multitude of grey hairs.
Now, I've found the odd one,
But didn't dwell in the dumps,
But now they have multiplied,
And are there in clumps.
It's the first time I've noticed them,
They have come to the fore,
But I won't worry about them,
Because then there will be more.
I won't dye my hair either,
That never looks quite right,
Plus, where do you draw the line,
When against aging you fight?
I won't pluck them out either,
Against that I'm firmly set,
Because with my receding hairline,
I need every hair I can get.
So, perhaps I should become more stately,
And less inclined to rage,
This could be a blessing in disguise