A poem that will celebrate
all the wonders of my man's hair.
A poem that feels sorry for
his hair no longer there.

A poem that shows puzzlement
from him at women's weaves.
A poem that sympathizes
with his hair-line as it leaves.

A poem that says a "YAY!"
to the people who are bald.
A poem that blows a kiss and says
"I'm sorry dear, that's all!"

He has x-ray vision,
but he's as blind as a bat.
He sees straight to my heart,
but cannot see my fat.

He's as strong as an ox,
but as gentle as can be.
He's **** in his shorts,
and in a suit-a sight to see!

He's my super-hero,
even though he can't  fly;
He doesn't drive a Bat-Mobile,
or freeze time with his eye.

But the things that he 'can' do
far outweigh the things he can't;
and they give the word "Super-Hero"
a whole new slant!

Keep head high, little girl.
And your heart as an open book.
Think good thoughts of who you are,
so other girls can take a look.

Your self esteem, little girl,
should be pumped up wherever you can.
But shouldn't depend on prettiness,
or the sugary words of a man.

Your self esteem needs to be balanced.
Not arrogant or smug at it's core.
For the sun does not rise and set on you,
but nor is garbage dumped at your door.

So keep head high, little girl.
And your heart as an open book.
Your self esteem will then be lifted,
and the whole world will take a look.

"How can you be so positive
with everything so bad?
When folks are so unkind
and all those doctors make you mad?"

"It's easy!" I assure them.
'Cuz one thing makes it okay.
I wake up every morning,
and I'm breathing every day!

When I can't move a muscle
and can barely lift my head,
I think of all the folks I've known
who now are gone, yes, dead!

No matter what my problem is,
and if I stand or lay,
I'm thankful that my mind still works
and I'm breathing every day!

So how am I so positive,
When things sometimes seem bleak?
It's easy, 'cuz my breathing
keeps on going every week!

Oh yes, I have a choice!
I can be miserable and whine;
Be mean to folks around me,
Be demanding and unkind.

But who would make that choice,
when there's a better way to be?
I mean, who's breathing every day
and writing poems?...ME!