i never cared much for my hair,
and just went with whatever my mother made me wear.
it was always pigtails in funny-colored hair ties,
adorned with hot pink clips and sparkly butterflies.
at kindergarten, the kids would point at me and say
how weird my hairstyle looked that day.
i didn't understand their jeers or taunting words,
the line between joke and insult became blurred.
it didn't matter though, for i just continued to color in
the happy girl i drew with elaborate hairpins.
i really liked what my mother put in for me,
it was her way of showing me love, you see.
morning routines of combing my hair,
adding little trinkets here and there,
telling me to be good and kind to all,
to hold my head up high and stand tall.
i'll always keep those memories in mind,
surviving through bullies and tough times.
because no matter how far i travel and sail,
i'll always be my mother's girl in pigtails.
YOU ARE READING
Gone was time • poetry collection
PoetryYou don't see it. You don't hear it. You don't feel it. Quietly, it creeps away like a sinful thief, stealing all your moments, your months, your memories and gone was time. More often than not, many of us don't fully comprehend the weight a moment...
