With a thread as old as time
And my naive attempts to rhyme
I shall write a poem about hair this time
The brush that painted the Mona Lisa
The sweater that you wear
May have been a creature’s hair
A camouflage for Tigers, and the crown of Lions
Antennae for insects, and pikes for Porcupines
Nature finds a way to give meaning to these tiny vines
Galadriel’s golden strands that shine with hope
Medusa’s serpents that turn you to stone
Rapunzel’s rope, let down from her prison
In myth and prose, we find hair’s reason
From primates to humans, evolution led to attrition
Beauty for men & women, still sways our vision
Once covered in fur, we cling to a few strands
To have or how much is not in our hands
Vestigial memory of millennia from before
I know I’m a fool, I still wish I had more