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The Burgeoning Bun

A poem by Beverly Stock.

A hair net holds

The burgeoning bun.

If the wind blows,

Flying hair’s no fun.


Unlike the cute braids,

That easily swing,

On sweet little maids,

That windy days bring.


Perhaps a chignon

Sleek and fantastic

No need for ribbon,

Or binding elastic.


Is bald the answer?

Shaving might sting.

No strands there to blow,

Nor braids to swing.


Either bun or bald

Might be the thing

The magazines show

For some girls this spring!


Long-haired persons need only apply.





Beverly Stock is an American poet living in St. Louis. Her work has been published on ClassicalPoets.org, at theChainedMuse.com, on Persimmontree.Org, and on the Webzine Lighten Up Online.

The Burgeoning Bun

© 2019 Beverly Stock


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