Tangle

When morning dawns I find my hair a cloud of frazzled brown

Take to it with brushes

Take to it with combs

Take to it with hair clips

Take to it with bows

But I cannot by any luck find means to tame my crown

It fights me like a stubborn child that can'y make up its mind

Beg it to be straightened

Beg it to be curled

Beg it to be flowing

Beg it to be still

I would let it be but for the one stray hair I find

And when I finally get it right

I then, of course, must sleep the night

And when another day begins

I heave a sigh and start again