My therapist died. 

She would not dye my hair green 

because she knew me. 

When things were beyond 

my control I would tell her 

to cut my hair short. 

Penny knew that when

a woman’s world spirals she

tries to change her look.

I’m going to miss 

my secret keeper and friend

who kept my head straight. 

Rest In Peace, Penny.

3 Replies to “Penny”

  1. Oh, Penny She sounds like a lovely hairdresser, therapist, and friend. Peace to you and her family and all others who loved her. So powerful…”Penny knew that whena woman’s world spirals shetries to change her look.””Secret keeper”…Perfect. Thank you, Kim.


  2. Oh, Kim. I am sorry for this loss. A relationship built on pure trust for sure – a girl and her stylist, the ties that bind. You capture it so succinctly and powerfully here. Wordplay whimsy (“who kept my head straight”) is a touch as deft the hands that knew individual textures and how to handle them with expertise. So many layers to this poem – from the word “therapist” in the opening line to hair symbolizing the twists and turns (the cuts?) of life. And – you are a haiku jedi. I savor every line.


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