Caren Krutsinger | + Follow Poet |
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Dying To Dye Her Hair

She was dying to grow up
So she could dye her hair like her grandma
Grandma dyed her hair to match her dresses
Every Sunday at church- lavender, blue, pink.

When she finally reached eighteen
She rolled the die to figure out her color.
Pink? Blue? Lavender? Rainbow?
What a lovely figure she made at church that Sunday.

You look just like your grandmother! Someone said.
She adored her new dye job.
She continued to dye her hair in rainbow colors
Until she died, alone but very pretty.

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Gershon Wolf Date: 10/10/2021 7:38:00 PM I thought that only black ladies at the gospel churches on the South Side of Chicago in the 50's and 60's did this. I used to see blue hair, green hair, pink hair etc. on these ladies at White Sox games back in the day... 'Course, maybe grandma was a punk-rocker. lol. ~ Spike Login to Reply Caren Krutsinger Date: 10/10/2021 10:52:00 PM I guess you never went to a small town Iowa church full of white women in the 60's.

L Milton Hankins Date: 10/10/2021 10:10:00 AM Ooooh, what a sad ending. Was she alone when she died because she always died her hair? I'm confused. Hair color shouldn't prohibit finding love. I don't think. Good thought-provoking poem, Caren. Login to Reply Caren Krutsinger Date: 10/10/2021 10:53:00 PM Thank you Hank; this was just a fun exercise I gave myself using the words die, dye, dying and dyeing.