Sonnet: Hair

This is a sonnet I wrote for my British Literature class as an example for them as they try to write their own sonnets. Enjoy.

Hair

In the 60’s twas cool to wear it long,

In the 80’s the mullet was the rage.

To me a mohawk just looks weird and wrong,

And hairs gray as one increases with age.

Not so long ago, in the days of my youth,

Waves upon waves of dark curls grew on top.

But now as I grow a bit long in tooth,

My hair does not grow; it is a dead crop.

When I’m asked if I would like some Rogaine,

It’s easy to be offended and hurt.

Genetics are the cause of my hair to wane,

And this is why I shout, cry out and blurt:

“In a battle of wits, I can’t be beat

For grass does not grow on a busy street!”