Week 3 poem: Hair

Hair

The wavy, the curly, straightened, or with frizz

Flat and no volume.

Abstract or bizarre,

Colored, greasy, styled, or shaved,

The hair on my head is never ashamed.

When getting old means getting grey,

And the hair, parted in the center, wanted so many years before,

Becomes permanent.

The era of the comb-over begins

Growing up in phases, one can watch it mature

The legnth of one's hair is a sign of growth

Youth and childhood years, with the short and clean cuts,

Then comes teenage assembly and the legnth expands.

To the scraggled, and scruffy, the un-kept, and the glue.

From the mohawks, through the buzz-cuts,

Hair is constantly changing,

And so are you.