H.: Chronicles of a new mother

It is like a lawn,

new sod abroad,

some dries and comes forth later,

as always time is the factor,

at first looking limb,

in the wind they move with laughter.

They shed,

they then come again.

What am I?

I am skinny,

I am long,

I grow slowly after all,

sometimes I don't grow at all.

Can you guess what they and I are?

I could be straight,

I could curl,

I could dangle on the face.

Comb me please!

Yes you guessed it!

I am hair!

My baldness is covering,

my scalp,

is warm.

My hair will grow and I will grow,

what excitement to see.

What kind of hair will I be?

Wild or tame...

what color will I see,

will it then perhaps stay the same.

Thick or thin,

thick through thin.

What will I be?

Tick tock we will see.

Poem by Michelle Marin

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