sun reflects
shines like a mirror
unfurls the sky
clouds float past
breeze runs
through few strands
flailing helplessly
on the top;
here come the rains
pitter patter
sounds stay
water drops land,
jumping off
flowing down in gay abandon
messing around
few strands all wet and drooping
on glistening brown;
it’s cold and frosty
iced it is
freezing all of it
shimmering white
strands flattened
beyond vision;
hurts beyond measure
open to vagaries of weather
leaving no option but
to reach for the cap
to save the few strands
on the bald pate
I was not a writer