Secret Writers Business - by quatro

What would I do if I lost my hair!

Start collecting combs, what else!
Why not, it’s better than collecting scrambled and horribly fumbled pieces of coloured paper. I know that I would be ever so happy to never be in a position to see, how much hair was left for me to glee. Imagine washing my head, rub, rub, rub, with no hair on it, like a sub.
A wonderful, delightfully enjoyable, but sometimes categorical, if not in the least bit rhetorical, it was indeed, a time for me to flee. Well it’s not every day I lose my hair, I thought as I looked into the mirror and to my surprise there was no hair anywhere in sight. It was gone, gone to sea I think, on a ship with wings to fly in on the edge of darkness in a blink.
There’s nothing more to say, I will be counting how many combs I have so far and soon to have some more, ‘cause collecting combs, the thing for me. That’s of course if I lost my hair, in the first place, you see.

Is the bald eagle really bald?

I sometimes tend to wobble
a kind of a misdirected gobble,
I’d like to fly and talk out loud,
but mostly I end up doing the hobble.

I like to run,
I like to hide,
I even think a bike, I’d like to ride,
jumping help’s but not too much,
rolling is great but gets all dirty in mud.

Tried walking,
on my own two hands that is,
came to a corner and needed to stop,
because all I could think of,
was a mighty sneeze.

There’s a pebble in my shoe you know,
and it’s bothering my middle toe,
there’s no way around it this morning,
I have to tell it I’m sorry,
because,
you see it’s not a pebble at all,
it just happens to be,
truly duly,
no fibs, cross my heart for surely,
the smallest dinosaur in the whole wide world,
with his red bow tie reading a poem,
really!