When I was three
And my mother brushed my hair
She parted it carefully
And braided it equally.
Two fat plaits
Hung as even as my stare.

When I was nine
And the hairbrush was my foe
Wild curls entwined
Personality defined.
Hair tangling
Faster than it could grow.

When I was fifteen
And hair hit the salon floor
I just wanted to be seen
So dyed it pink, blue and green.
Hair chopped short
Little girl no more.

Now I'm twenty-three
No longer in the nest
My parting is messy
And my braids escapee.
A hairy reminder
That mother knows best.