She wanted a new look, and new outlook,
Different clothes, from shoes to sandals,
Chop her beautiful long blonde hair off,
From short sleeves to long sleeves, cuffed.

She disliked royal blue, still loyal to red,
Her hair now hazel brown, no makeup to run,
No lipstick, she preferred the parched look,
A thought of old age, now caught up to her.

And at an age, when a woman does not tell,
She’s trying to hide, though she believes that,
The more you try to hide, the more dreams
You’ll have of escaping from the real you.

©2007, Ron Globe