Looking Glass Blues

It's been almost a year since my favorite stylist hung up her scissors. And still I search for someone to keep my short hair neat and trim.

Looking Glass Blues

She promised me a pixie haircut

But delivered a deranged elf effect.

It made no difference how hard I tugged,

Sawed-off bangs taunted me, haunted me.

Resembling a deranged elf, I searched

For solace in an enchanted pond and cringed

At the butchered bangs abusing me.

The stunted strands refused to stretch.

No fairytale transformation at hand.

Tried to bury my hair beneath a headband

But the stunted strands popped free.

Sighing, I decided, "It could be worse."

Restyled it and a scarecrow appeared.

Knowing time alone would address this mess,

I kept telling myself, "It could be worse,"

And fervently wished to hide inside.

I knew in time my bangs would behave

And it made no difference how hard I tugged.

If only I had been able to hide inside

With this botched promise of a pixie haircut.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor