All About Hair: A Poem

I am a mirror image of her

I wore those bows and beads on my crown

Wincing when those kids touched my big curls

Their frozen noses under the scarves

Bright eyes that grew darker in the cold

I wear my hair like a mountain now

Or a skyscraper, too high for hands

She cries when they tug too hard sometimes

I hope she keeps her bows and her beads