You used to stroke my head
and play with my hair,
causing sleepiness in my eyes
and a peaceful smile on my face.
You loved my long hair
and I know you played with it
long after you thought I was asleep.
I remember sometimes my small hand
reaching out to play with yours,
again causing me to fall asleep.
Suddenly,
things all began to change.
I could no longer play with your hair,
nor could I figure out why,
for I knew that you weren't angry
and you still played with mine all the time.
My young mind pondered over this,
between the time and distance
that often separated us for months.
Then I saw it,
our next visit.
All your hair was gone.
And although I didn't understand why,
something inside me told me I shouldn't cry,
a feeling that this was a time to be brave.
Over the next few months
you wore special scarves around your head,
I used to pretend that your long beautiful hair
was just hiding underneath,
then as soon as I got home
and felt sure no one was looking,
I would write letters to God
and beg him to give you back your hair-
but I guess He never heard me?
So I cut off some of mine in chunks,
and put them in an envelope for you,
I didn't mind sharing,
because I loved you and I had a lot of hair.
My plan never worked,
in fact it made everyone quite angry,
but didn't they see what I did?
Ever since you lost your hair,
you always looked so sad,
always looked so tired and pale,
you didn't even give me cuddles any more.
You hardly got out of bed at all.
I prayed to God a million times,
that I would never be bad again
for the rest of my life,
if he just gave you back your hair-
but again, I guess he must not have heard.
I tried to grow my hair so long,
so I could save some up for you,
but I ran out of time because apparently,
cancer took you up to the sky.
I guess cancer doesn't care about hair,
nor does it care about age,
because that twelve year old girl has never grieved
for every single thing that cancer stole from her life.
