Haley's Hair, by Grandma Julie

When I was born I had little hair, and what I had was brown.

And as it grew, one tuft stood up right on the top of the crown.

When that fell out my hair came in, my perfect crown of gold,

And I need haircuts all the time, now that I’m three years old.

When I jump, or gallop, or run my hair’s a sight to see.

I shake my head.  My hair flies out, and makes a cloud round me.

And when I stop my hair falls down as perfect as can be.

Most people would love to have my hair, on that they would agree.

I don’t want pigtails, braids or bows.  They never feel just right.

I don’t like headbands on my head they always feel too tight.

I enjoy my hair alone, just hanging down quite free.

My cowlick’s gone, my hair quite long, now that I’m turning three.

When I go to sleep most times my hair gets full of sweat.

And it is not a little damp, I’m talking soaking wet.

But let it dry, it falls back down, of course in perfect order,

A rock-star halo round my face, a perfect golden border.

I like to think my hair shows off my personality.

I’m orderly most of the time, but sometimes wild and free.

My hair will change a lot this year as I grow from three to four,

But it will be special just like me.  I’m Haley Ryan Moore.