MY HAIR

It's my hair again.
It is straight,
Shoulder length,
Growing longer.

I wash it once a week,
Dry it in the sun,
Pull it back
Olive oil on my palms
Glistening the strands.

I wear my hair pulled back
Into a G. Washington bob-tail,
Held by a sift ring
Or on my head,
Tacked up with combs.
It's fun to play!

Gone are the days
Of beauty parlors,
Of perms,
Of haircuts,
Of styles,
Of money spent.
All dropped away
As though they never were.

It's my hair again
And I love it-
And it's beautiful!

Phyllis This is Phyllis' final Ninepatch poem.