Bearded sonnet

In the mirror I look at a beard that took a year to grow

Patchy hair, at which I did stare, until it began to show

Told it looked like sin as it slowly filled in, grey and white

Hairs of sorrow, hope I did borrow, sunny days, calm and fright

Now its grown in, hairs of steel and tin some tarnished others bright

Each strand, a memory to understand, each marks life's fight

Some they are small others grow tall, colored black, white and grey 

People don't want to see my history, bare your chin they say

To cut for the crowd what I am proud would be cruel betrayal

Hairs of gloss bent by loss twisted by pain, but hope did not fail

To throw away what can't be gained in a day born of travail

To cover a trembling chin when I couldn't win, my chainmail

Leonardo had one, so did God's son both looked just fine

Would you shave santa's face or Christ in his place what of mine

Reviews

[JessyJacob]

Hi Soren,
Man looks old in beard, and I know few had reasons to not to grow, so they don't grow.
When you said patch, I would say don't grow it won't look good.

Thank you.
Jessy Jacob

[Soren]

Yes makes one look old that is why I waited until I was old, patchy indeed but in time it fills in. Thanks for the read