ginger
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There once was a Baker
with piercing blue eyes,
a cranky old Baker
whom all despised.
There once was a Baker
with hair flaming red,
a crusty old Baker
a man many dread.
When people you don't know tell you you have beautiful hair
When hair stylists tell you that if they could bottle your colour they'd be rich
The ginger, the bucklebunny, occasionally The +1,
I'm called a lot of names, but one always jumps the gun.
It depends on how you meet me, and what we're calling fun,
It depends on if I'm being flirty, calling you my hun.
Ginger and Persimmons
the scent of desert far
mixed with spice and orient
of mystery
and of death
the wisdom
of a dying man
held beneath the desert sky
whispers of an ancient time
