Ode To A Black Comb

by Philip F De Pinto

A black comb

With winter approaching fast

Takes warmth and solace in the few remaining

Gray hairs left there by an old siren

Who used to groom herself

While rocking in a porch chair

Who took her leave of that comb and me

One if by land - two if by sea - three if by air

And four if by broom

And yet how long will the warmth last

Given nest building birds

Were nibbling at the strands?


Posted on 06/22/2016
Copyright © 2021 Philip F De Pinto

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/24/16 at 02:41 AM

Such a simple yet intimate article, Philip. This draws me close as though still counting those gentle 100 strokes. Nicely done. Thanks!

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