Hair

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a poem that a wrote a few years ago. It is about a small girl who has cancer.

Submitted: March 01, 2014

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Submitted: March 01, 2014

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Hair

 

A child of three

From a family of two.

She was loved and was loved

More than she knew.

 

Making it through,

Just the girl and the ma—

Without money, but with courage,

And no loving pa.

 

And life—not at all easy—

It had scarred, and had bruised.

But nothing could prepare the mother

For the doctor’s harsh news.

 

And now waited the mother

With the blue brush in hand,

She eyed the cold mirror—

She begged to understand.

 

And she lifted the brush

To the little blond head

As one lifts a weapon—

With fear and with dread.

 

And the mother, she cried,

For she knew what would come

And the daughter cried too—

Making Mama go numb.

 

The blue brush—

How it glittered as it pulled through the hair,

Laughing as it took the blond ringlets,

And tossed them everywhere.

 

And despite her daughter’s helpless sobs

Or the phone ringing outside the door,

All the mother could hear was the soft sound of hair

As it slowly fell to the floor.

 


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