The Wise.

The grandma, the aged and ailing grandma But cheerful always When she sees the little children Of her near and dear ones In such good friendships. The little girl the good friend Asks a tricky question Grandma, are you fond of beauty parlor? To make your grayish hair in such beauty The silver hair in such polished color. An innocent question it was The little one's mind in such clarity Where no place to tricky questions In fact it was a genuine question she asked. She smiled with the same emotion And told the little one in truth I had having such a bright and long hair In my youthful period it was black And in this old age it became grayish A natural phenomenon indeed Where in creation no place for a beauty parlor All creations consists of beauty, the wise thinks.