Gary

Poor Gary Gnome was quite a sight,

His hair was never a delight,

In fact, most times it was a fright,

Could hair induce a fight? This might!

So Gary’s friends launched a crusade

By Gary’s hair, they weren’t dismayed,

And certainly, they weren’t afraid,

Cause soon they’d have his hair arrayed.

They bought supplies, shampoo and foam,

Some bobby pins, a brush and comb,

Some perfume in a bottle, chrome,

Then sat him in his chair. At home.

They went to work upon his mane,

Determined it’d not be the same,

Coiffeur-al glory they’d attain,

He’d thank them (when his anger waned).

But when they, first, the comb applied,

Collective eyes were opened wide,

What was it each of them had spied?

Why, Gary’s bald head hid inside.

His head was quite a nice one, true,

There was no fuss, not much ado,

Each to the same conclusion, flew:

Just think what he’ll save on shampoo!

Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we all besought,

To try to make the week begin

With pleasant thoughts.

Perhaps a grin?

So all of us, together, we

Have posted poems for you to see,

And now you’ve read what we have wrought . . .

Did we help?

Or did we not?

Jenny

Charlotte

Mimi

Merry Mae

Next week, we'll have a little fun,
We'll talk of 'sports'. It's being done...