Her
Hair was
Longer now
Soft and flowing
It draped over her
Shoulders, cascading down
Just like in her younger days
Everyone remarked how it looked
Like a pale gray scarf that kept her warm
They shed some tears as the casket was closed
©2022 Annette Rochelle Aben
7 pm, the call came
He’s 18, and he’s dead
In a hospital bed
Hit by a truck
Heads shook in disbelief
No, this could not be true
But what could pull him through
That he would live
Praying in circles, small
From all who heard the cry
Raise the request on high
Save this young man
Silence until the call
Eleven fifty-five
Dear God, he was alive
How could this be
Doctors went on record
It made the TV news
They said prayer pulled him through
Not their doing
©2022 Annette Rochelle Aben
Goldilocks wanna be
She heard blondes had more fun
She wanted to be one
Dye her brown hair
She chose to take it slow
Hairdresser gave her streaks
Of the shade she did seek
Gradual change
©2022 Annette Rochelle Aben
Nose
Turned up
Pushed away
Poor tomato
She refused to eat
Raw or cooked, either way
Ketchup she could tolerate
Her parents couldn’t understand
She’d eat ketchup and tomato soup
Couldn’t stomach the original fruit
Although it was never documented
Precisely when she tried them again
Perhaps on a fast-food burger
When mixed with the condiments
Culinary heaven
And it was game on
Stuffed with tuna
Tomatoes
Tasted
Good
©2022 Annette Rochelle Aben
https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2022/01/25/tankatuesday-weekly-poetry-challenge-no-258-themeprompt/
Annette Rochelle Aben 