The Blue Hairbrush Poem by Elizabeth Leung

The blue hairbrush
Baby blue - colour of the sky
Clean, pure, all things soft and lovely and
Dreamy.
But carries the weight of a mother's responsibility and her
Attachment to brushing her child's soft curly locks.
It can't be
Lost.
It mustn't be, it shouldn't be. It couldn't be!
'Find it, find it, find it', the voice echoes.
Silently, but urgently.
Disbelief. Bewilderment.
Comes grief.
Griefing over a hairbrush, who would have thought!
The hairbrush teases - a game of hide and seek - comedically (or perhaps hauntingly) appears under her pillow,
But only in her dream.
It was found the next day by her elder daughter.
Hope restored. All is well.
And bright.
Because the blue hairbrush
Lives on.
Again it sits
Obnoxiously but dutifully on the bedside table.
The mind is weak.
And sometimes it needs a
Baby
Blue
Hairbrush.