Poem: FOOL.

FOOL

Everyday she sat their

braiding ladies’ hair

 

rbraid

Carried away in admiration

of ladies her age

parading the street

in cooperate wears

neatly tucked in;

designer bags in hand

and iPhones gorgeously held.

Everyday,

she returned home sulking

until one day

she approached one of them

asking if she too could be employed.

As she was handed a card that read:

“Magic hands Salon. Experts in all kinds of braids”,

She laughed, knowing she had been a fool.

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