I loved it when my son
caressed my hair
as I requested him
to style my hair
feigning an inability.
His five year old hands
would make this
wondrous mess of
Medusa like tangles,
just like I did years ago
when I tied tens of
little fountains of hair
on my dad’s sleeping head
with colourful rubber bands.
Your poem beautifully captures a tender and playful moment between parent and child, reflecting the joy and love found in simple acts like styling hair. The comparison of the child's attempts to style hair to the playful mischief done to a father's hair years before weaves a thread of continuity and shared family moments. This poem resonates with warmth and the cherished memories that come from everyday moments. Ravi
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