AN ODE TO HAIR

Nothing stays the same.

We see this time and time again.

If there’s more than one,

There can be different one’s in a ton.

One in particular I want to uncover,

When at first it comes in all different colors.

Whether it be straight, curvy, curly, or coiled,

Some take conditioners, the others take oils.

Short, medium, or long,

The tiny tots on your tongue.

Some thick, some full,

Some thin, some fool.

Blessed are those who it comes easy to style

But for others comes lengthy hours, just like 1,000 miles.

Some stiff, some sunning,

some wet, some running.

Why must the blues come at the end.

It’s bad enough if all your life you had to tend.

When closer to the end of days,

All of them turn into grays.

Receding lines are not fun,

You give up, they won.

And vitamin B, E, D, is not a cure

So bald for life, none in a bun, unless in store.

Purchase some, or hat it up,

Everyone gives a “you know what.”

Just don’t become self-conscious,

Because losing hair is sort of like knocking you unconscious….

For Good.

Oh, how I hope my hair will grow, Grow, GROW,

It should.

Sad I am.

Until I find a friend.

One with locks,

One with cornrows,

One with plats

And the other with moho’s

Another in a wrap,

Or ponytail to the back,

And no magazine girl gets credit.

They wish we lived vicariously,

But the Afro tells our story.

Some shaved off their sides,

The new age added it to their eyes.

Some shaved in other places,

Just to have smooth faces.

But it never lasts,

Because it always comes back.

So, till the end you are committed,

Or by it you be tormented.

Some stick up.

Some lay sideways.

Some be matted.

Some be fly-aways.

Some grow in unexpected places.

Be it here or there,

Or found unexpected in trays.

Just don’t become self-conscious,

Because finding hair in food will knock you unconscious……..

For Good.

Oh, how I hope my hair will grow, Grow, GROW.

It should.

By Beautiful Intelligence