Touch of Grey

is the world more tolerant,
or i, more patient,
is everybody in a bigger hurry,
or i, slowing down,
is there more inequity all around,
or i, finally seeing.
my joys are more subtle now,
that fleeting side glance,
that shy half smile,
the way the morning sun lights up a new leaf,
the distant call of a peacock, seeking love,
or how the dew soaked grass crunches beneath.
i wonder is everything changing,
or is it i.
i guess the world is still the same,
so its just i, touched by a little grey