Mary Magdalene the Last Supper

Mary Magdalene. The last supper. The last day I combed Christ’s hair I knew I truly loved him, It was matted and tangled, I believed there and then that we were not all perfect people. Nobody was. I always liked a happy thought, But I knew his mind could be dark and disagreeable, His hair was stubborn and coarse Like a Roman Soldiers mood. As I pulled down hard to rid the tugs I was aware of jealous eyes As Judas Iscariot walked by. His stony look said it all. He would cut the Devils hair If it meant he could kiss Christ’s cheek.