how i wish my fingers were the bristles <br />or my breath were the wind when it whistles <br />thru your hair, thru your hair <br /> <br />i wish you'd hold me in your hands <br />and let me skate thru all the strands <br />of your hair, of your hair <br /> <br />i could style it anyway you like it <br />i could brush it straight or even spike it <br />au contraire! au contraire! <br /> <br />or i would wait patiently in my box <br />until next i would comb the locks <br />of your hair, of your hair <br /> <br />i would braid it tight, tousle, and tease! <br />or pull it back in a ponytail, if you please; <br />if you dare, if you dare <br /> <br />how often is it a man confesses <br />that he wish to run barefoot thru the tresses <br />of your hair, of your hair? <br /> <br />you may think me a little touch'd <br />but can i tell you just how much <br />i hate your hairbrush? <br /> <br />this obsession may be zealous <br />but can i tell you just how jealous <br />i am of your hairbrush? !<br /><br />Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hairbrush/
