A hundred thousand hairs
I’m told that’s how I started
Now, left with only twelve
My pate is broken-hearted
It happened one sad morn
A pelt upon my pillow
Like a moth-eaten clump
Scattered willy-nillow
Save twelve little hairs
If follicles could come over
And nest upon my head
I’d have a tiny comb-over.
Curse the chemo doctors
Who putrified my system
They lied about the fallout
I should have just dismissed them
I wonder if a weave
Could latch on to my dozen
And make me look like Fur-dinand
My Neanderthalic cousin
I bought a rack of hats
From elegant to funky
Don’t deny you’re laughing
When I wear my sock hat monkey
I reminisce the lyrics of
The 60’s musical, Hair
Gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen
Where’s it now, oh, where?
I have no home for fleas
I have no hive for bees
No nest for birds, there ain’t no words
For the loss of my wonderful hair.
by Donna Rhodes
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