by Mandy Doerr
Honey-spun silk on top of my head,
Which in evening sunlight, sparkles flaming red,
But in normal lighting, looks ash-brown instead.
It holds curls well, and has nice waves,
But resists my attempt to style its ways,
Despite my pleading, prayers, and raves.
For, although it resides upon my dome,
It believes it has a life of its own,
And regards me as sea coral does stone.
I think from all the time I spent,
Battling frustration and anger pent,
The least it could do is pay me rent....
copyright © 1998, Amanda D. Doerr