A shady copse,
Hiding under trees that fell.
The hair of the beauty that tumbled out beneath the wedding day hat.
Clumps of severe alopecia,
The bride looked like a father, a holy one, not a pretty mother.
Four months before that wedding day, her boy child born a precious date.
The date was set,
The bathroom covered in stragglers,
Strands of missing falling hair.
The sink was blocked,
The door was locked.
She sat and sobbed,
blubbing as a child would.
The special day came and then it left for a few months no hair,
The lady was bereft.
Her sorrow was very short lived,
Well fairly anyway,
A few short months,
Her hair renewed so full and fast,
As thick as fields of summer hay.
Crowning glory was restored,
The sorry bride she cried no more.
(c) Livvi