The matter of Hair

Everyone knows how much I love my lovely locks, they are my crowning glory

Sister, may we please practice the snipping of hair, upon your glorious well pruned head

Five little siblings have I, all eager to become little shearers of, well, somebody's, anybody's mane:

Of course, I replied emphatically, 'no'...

The little devil-ettes plotted and planned, patiently biding their time

I fell asleep upon the hammock, beneath the warm and cuddly July sky

I never heard them creeping up, snip, snip, snippity snip, all five

I awoke from what I naturally thought a dream, to find myself quite bald, yet somehow really quite beautiful

Nevertheless, I fired up the cauldron, and proceeded to boil them one by one

The little witches giggled and voluntarily jumped into the boiling pot

Mother had somehow heard the furore and reacted swiftly, inventing the cold fire of witchery

My inquisitive little sisters had no idea that I really meant to boil them in a cauldron most hot

Mother thought me quite mad and pondered sending me to Hogwarts School for the mentally insane witch and wizard

Yet can you honestly say that you would not have done the same

Of course I love my sisters dearly...How can you even ask? Oh, you mean the boiling

Maybe if you got to know them, you would also try to cook them

What is that you say...maybe I am the monster in this story

I see that the little witches got to you...ok

Fall asleep around them, I dare you!!!!!!

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