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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1745340
A prose poem about one's perception of beauty re: combing hair.
Those long-haired beauties and fortunate gents
Cannot resist a good comb, now and then;
A device that serves no purpose
Other than to separate and smooth
One’s plentiful head of straight or curly hair…

Using a bathroom or bedroom mirror,
One might glide a comb through
Their clean and stylish do,
All the way to those billowy, flowing ends –
This complimentary and necessary reshaping
Of one’s locks communicating interest
In a level of beauty and refinement;
A light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel,
Precipitated by the ideals on which
A prolific aura depends!


© Copyright 2011 Tim Chiu (mirtx at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1745340-As-the-Comb-Glides