Her ponytail we follow
Like the Christmas star
Maybe we're not wise men,
But then, maybe we are.

Monday

In a bower of golden bangs,
Her pretty face protected
Blond ends foaming on her shoulders
Not a flaw detected

Tuesday

Like the floss on top of corn
Silky, curly, fine
Rising from a thick black band
Above blue eyes that shine

Wednesday

Frizzy effervescent
Teased like a souffle
Like wine bubbles rising
In a song from yesterday

Thursday

All swirled up into a bun
Slender sticks run through
Looking like antennae
Glittering with jewels

Friday

Happy dolphin clips are swimming
In the ocean of her hair
Quite a seascape to behold
Lots of currents flowing there

Saturday

Silky, long and smooth
Like a wedding day
Swishing when she shakes her head
Like curtains at a play

Sunday

Like a waterfall of brown
Through golden culverts flowing
Sweeps me far away downstream
Without her ever knowing