Pretty for Prom

An older sister helps her younger sister prepare for prom.

I wrote this for a rhyming contest, and the only intention I had for it was for it to rhyme.  I was impressed with the length even if the six-line stanza sounds a little choppy sometimes.  I was also pleased with the actual story that managed to slip into it.  I think it's a feeling a lot of people have with prom.  Missed chances, while watching the younger ones go through the bliss.  (Though I wonder if sometimes we forget that it isn't necessarily all bliss for them, either.)

 

Picture credit to Tanya Constantine.

 

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Silky locks stick surely

To the bristles I still hold.

The static brings attraction

While I try to stop the fold.

“Hold still!” I holler,

Sculpting hairdo with the mold.

 

You squirm and fuss

With child’s anxiety.

“Stop squirming,” I say.

Your expletives fly by me.

“I can’t!” You explain

With impressive cuss variety.

 

“We’re almost there, I swear.”

You groan and toss your head.

The brush catches my shirt,

Pulling forward as I dread.

The hair I pinned tumbles freely

As my fragile skin grows red.

 

“My HAIR!” You scream

With volume high.

“The pain…” You whisper,

“I’m going to cry.”

My head grows heavy

And drops with loaded sigh.

 

“I’ll look horrid,” you plead

As your wet eyes turn my way.

‘What can I do?  I tried,’

I realize I want to say.

Instead I frown and stroke.

“There’s still time, we can pay.”

 

The car is rugged and slow

But we arrive in good time.

Lilac scent abound,

The walls splashes of lime.

You dash through, head down,

Flinching at the bell’s chime.

 

“Welcome to Cost Cutters!”

We hear a young girl greet.

I smile to her eyes

While you find interest in your feet.

I explain our reason

For walking in from the street.

 

“I’m so embarrassed!”

You cry when seated.

The dresser smiles and replies,

“We’ll get this problem treated.

You came to the right place,

Your rats nest will be defeated.”

 

“Oh thank goodness!”

Is your reply.

I watch and listen,

My smile wry.

At last I say,

“I gave it a try.”

 

“She’ll be beautiful by prom,”

The hairdresser assures.

She looks up with brief pause,

“Is she yours?”

I c**k a brow and stand straight.

“She goes with whom she lures.”

 

“Is that you?” she continues,

Her face peculiarly tight.

I manage to keep straight face,

When I try with all my might.

“I’m her sister dearest,

Here to primp her for the night.”

 

We all three laugh

And smile with no restraints.

Your hair is finished

With absolutely no complaints.

The price is low—

Perfect for our constraints.

 

At seven I hand you off

To find your dashing date.

“I’m so glad,”

You say, “We didn’t end up late.”

I hug you close and let you go.

You’re off to catch your fate.

 

I speculate quite briefly

Over actions gone and passed.

I have no memories to this day

For the events flew by too fast.

A frown develops as I recall

Missed chances fairly vast.

 

It is her turn now

To enjoy what I have missed.

She will dance and dine,

And yearn to be kissed.

My little sister grown

As I, from the side, assist.

Reviews

[L.G. Knight]

cute!

[Antonio Valentino]

That was such a fun read, you did so very well Kiwi. What a nice tribute to all who go through getting ready for that big, big, night. In some ways this reminded me of a poem I wrote called, Love at first write.
Well take care, and it was nice meeting you.

Rich