Of Hairbrushes

You know I'm bored when I start writing poems about hair-brushes... but there really is not much about my current schedule worth saying... sleep, eat, "condition" (a.k.a. die) for volleyball, and chores and working at my dad's shop! So in my attempt to compensate for my lack of social life, I write about... hair brushes. Yes, I'm homeschooled. :)

It's ALIVE!

My hair brush has legs

of that I'm quite sure

When it thinks I'm not looking,

it bolts through the door

It's sneaky, that brush!

Never caught in the act.

But I know it has legs,

and that is a fact.

There's no other way

to explain why it's missing,

And  it's always when I

 am especially busy!

It hops out of my drawer

and onto my desk

Then slides down the lamp chord

like one of the best.

It looks all around

to make sure I'm not there

Then slinks off in the shadows

to district Who-Knows-Where.

It hides in my hamper,

and camps out in the car!

Though it often goes missing,

it never goes far.

Its favorite game

is hide and go seek,

And it hides for an hour,

a day, or a week.

And when I get used

to its odd hiding spots,

It's right there in my drawer!

Not to be caught.

It may look quite innocent,

but don't be deceived.

It'll use its quick legs

as soon as you leave.



Disclaimer: If any hairbrushes decide to sue me for disclosing their escape tactics, I would like to remind them that I am a minor payed minimum wage, and all attempts to get wealthy off of me will be in vain.