A giant’s missus walks in the fields,
steals hay bales to use for curlers,
wraps her wiry locks around each one
stuck with a branch for a bobby pin,
blows them dry by squeezing a hot wind.
Of course she does this really late
combs out her hair with a garden rake,
throws her curlers down a laundry bin,
when Mr. Giant knocks and stomps in,
and the house shudders with their big date.
[wpshopcart_add_to_cart id=”1″ ]
Lenore,
My first love is poetry and you’ve mastered the art of evoking visual images and emotional response. I’m amazed by your talent for turning seemingly mundane events into the profound. Enjoyable reading.
Best & Bless,
Fran
Blessings to you in this season of rekindling light.
Comments are closed.