On Writing

Poem 324 – Hair

Hair

why am I letting it grow?
watching in frustrated disdain as it pushes
slower than a wounded snail out my pink scalp
a mash of greys whites blacks
like salt & pepper got in a fight & then gave up
walked away – tired & bored

why am I letting it grow?
a test of patience & will
& that amazing feeling of
hair in my hands
braiding it

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