Thick Poem by Edwina Reizer

Thick, thick, her hair was thick
Not a space between 2 strands.
And when she went to comb it.
She had to use two hands.

I loved its color, shiny brown
And the way she twirled it round and round.
To feel it must be heavenly.
But no, no she never let me.

It was her crowning glory she said.
The sight of it had gone to her head.
Thick, thick, her hair was thick.
I really think it was making her sick.

I really had to touch her hair.
And so I put my hand right there.
When she felt it she turned so quick
That a clump of it was in my hand, so thick.