Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
These brittle, thinning,
nut-brown hair-strands,
spiral onto the floor like
dying autumn leaves.
I sweep up curly strands,
mourn their loss, search for photos
which boast a full afro-head
that summoned fear.
That was all I needed then--
a mass of hair
some backed away from.
Oh the power that was.
This head thinks it needs
a thick cap to keep it warm
but even a curly-haired cap
cannot keep nature and time at bay.
©Althea Romeo-Mark
I don't see a place on your site where I can leave a comment. Do you have English poems. Your work is in Portugese.
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