The Taming of the 'Do

You come to me, all pouty-faced.
Your curls are all askew.
A brush is dangling in the mess
of summer's sticky dew.

The straight smooth hair of older sis
has captured all of your thoughts.
You beg me with your eyes of blue
to tame your curly locks.

Reluctantly I plug it in
and expectantly you wait.
This magical black instrument
will change your curly fate.








As Mama works methodically,
your legs bounce up and down.
It's hard to be so patient
in your change to princess from clown.

And when she is done, to the mirror you run
anxious to see the effect.
Alas for the Mama when she examines her work,
if even one stray curl is left.

Texas in summer is hot and cruel
especially for one so small.
To have a head filled with lustrous curls
just isn't fair at all.


:)