Mama said, “ You need to get your hair done, Perry.”
Yet I wouldn’t dare
You see I have a fear of those long scissors
And the ladies with too much hair
Mama said, “Perry, that just won’t do.”
Yet, I didn’t care
The hairdresser’s nails were like clippers
And the gossip mill has too much to hear
Whether my hair goes up or down
Either way, I look like a clown
With my hair two directions
It’s hard to find the nearest intersection
My hair eats combs and brushes too
It gets tangled
All the way down to my shoe
“I might as well cut it,” I said to mama
But then what would I do.
Seems like there is not much left
After a 46 inch cut
A Bob, a bob will do.
Short and nice
No tangles on this side
But plenty on the rest
My hair is now like a nest
Where birds come to rest
2 Comments Add yours
This is beautiful! Love this poem. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for reading!