only one kept her curls

My mother’s curls were teeny tiny, ringlets of gray
Tightly wound, as if they had been set around toothpicks
My sister and I had golden curls until we were two.
They gave us a haircut, and that was the end of them.

Our brother had curls, but they embarrassed our father.
He did not think he looked like a real boy with them.
I think he was relieved when Richard’s toddler head was shaved.
Our father never had a curl; his hair was thick and stiff.

Five people living in the same house.
Only one kept her curls.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace