When she was young her hair grew in wild random wispy tufts
that her mother tried to tame with bobby pins and barrettes
And slapped her with the back of the brush when she wiggled
and again when she lost them
When she was a little older elastic bands were pulled so tight that
her eyes slanted and filled with tears but her high proud pony tail
bounced saucily off her back keeping time when she skipped rope
“Jeannie, Jeannie With a curl. Will you jump as my best girl?
Slow at first. Now that's the way. On we go to break of day.”
When she was too old for skip rope and bored with nursery rhymes she
bleached her bland brown braid platinum blond and played other games
until they too bored her
And on her wedding day she gave her hair over to be teased and cajoled
till it stood atop her like a lopsided Eifel tower; her crowning glory
that glimmered like gossamer when they made love in the night lights glow
till the baby cried and she stumbled sleepily from her bed pulling it back into
a ponytail as she went
And when the next baby came she cut it short to keep it safe from sticky fingers
and snotty noses that liked to bury themselves in the crook of her neck
And when her tired tresses began to turn grey she fought back with streaks and
foils and a fashionable bob
Until she grew tired of fighting and once again her hair grew in wild random
wispy tufts letting her shiny pink scalp show through
but she no longer bothered with the bobby pins or barrettes
Author Bio:
Jean runs a small horse boarding and training facility on the beautiful Alberta prairies where she can enjoy both the sunshine and the snow, often on the same day.
She has always enjoyed stories and poems from both sides of the ink. Sunshine or snow Jean can be found either in the saddle or curled around her computer writing. Over the years she has had several short stories, devotionals and poems published.
that her mother tried to tame with bobby pins and barrettes
And slapped her with the back of the brush when she wiggled
and again when she lost them
When she was a little older elastic bands were pulled so tight that
her eyes slanted and filled with tears but her high proud pony tail
bounced saucily off her back keeping time when she skipped rope
“Jeannie, Jeannie With a curl. Will you jump as my best girl?
Slow at first. Now that's the way. On we go to break of day.”
When she was too old for skip rope and bored with nursery rhymes she
bleached her bland brown braid platinum blond and played other games
until they too bored her
And on her wedding day she gave her hair over to be teased and cajoled
till it stood atop her like a lopsided Eifel tower; her crowning glory
that glimmered like gossamer when they made love in the night lights glow
till the baby cried and she stumbled sleepily from her bed pulling it back into
a ponytail as she went
And when the next baby came she cut it short to keep it safe from sticky fingers
and snotty noses that liked to bury themselves in the crook of her neck
And when her tired tresses began to turn grey she fought back with streaks and
foils and a fashionable bob
Until she grew tired of fighting and once again her hair grew in wild random
wispy tufts letting her shiny pink scalp show through
but she no longer bothered with the bobby pins or barrettes
Author Bio:
Jean runs a small horse boarding and training facility on the beautiful Alberta prairies where she can enjoy both the sunshine and the snow, often on the same day.
She has always enjoyed stories and poems from both sides of the ink. Sunshine or snow Jean can be found either in the saddle or curled around her computer writing. Over the years she has had several short stories, devotionals and poems published.
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