Grandma Poem by Edwina Reizer

Knots and tangles in my hair,
grandma sitting on her chair,
me in front on a stool so low,
brushes and combs all in a row.

Grandma would wash it every day,
Saying 'We do this first, then you play.'
Waiting for the feel of every pull,
this became our ritual.

I anticipated every tug.
When we finished we would hug.
But before I'd leave she'd make a bow,
all different colors she'd use to show

that my hair was something she loved to see.
It was long and shiny black, like ebony.
I treasure her looks and the moments spent,
the combs, the brushes and her looks of content.

My grandma made me feel like a queen,
like the prettiest thing she'd ever seen.
Now as my hair is turning gray
I remember the words she used to say,

'Sit down dolly and I'll comb your hair.'