The story of the bird's nest.

on top of my head lives a bird’s nest

it wasn’t always there

when i was little, my mother loved my hair

she loved it because it was long and curlywhile hers was short and straight

she would brush it and brush itand brush it some more

until it was nice and poofy

and the finishing touchwas always a

big bowthat sat

right ontop

and the finishing touchwas always a

big bowthat sat

right ontop

but unlike my mother, I always hated my curly hair

i hated it so much,i would pull it back in ponytails so tight my

head would hurt

strangely enough my ponytails hurt my mother a lot more than me

“katie, wear your hair down”

she would plead

and as i grew up, she wasn’t the only one

when you never wear your hair downpeople start to notice

it becomes an insatiable curiosity

“do you ever wear your hair down?”they askand askand ask

no.

you answertime and time again

but you can only say ‘no’ so many timesbefore you cave

and unleash your frizzon the world

when you doit’s hard to denyyou absolutely

and completely love the feeling

of your hair blowing in the windcurls bouncing on your shoulders

and just as you are vowing to never return to the confines of your hairband

you look in the mirror

and swiftly sweep up the disaster

into a compact little bird’s neston top of your head.

sorry mom.