An Almost Full Jon Snow

I think I’ll grow my hair out
For just one last hurrah
An age defying gesture
à la Louise Bourgeois

A shade of Manganiello
An almost full Jon Snow
Is round about the length to which
I think I’ll let it grow

There’s danger in this venture
We all have seen that guy
Who hasn’t fully realized
About the drawing nigh

Of time and chance and how you ought
To opt for hair that’s sleek and taut
Lest it should look like you have sought
An answer that is far too fraught
To be answered by coiffure
for vanished youth’s allure
well vanished might be strong
It won’t be all that long

But I think I’ll grow my hair out
Because I think I can
There comes that special moment
In the life of every man
When he’s staring in the mirror
and his hair is staring back
and fate is heard to whisper,
“It wouldn’t look too jack’d …
If you grew your hair out
Just one last time, my son
Why you could even wear it up
and tied into a bun.”

There won’t be any man bun
Top knots will not be tied
The look will not be Shogunate
That truth will be untried

I want to gift my follicles
a plaintive, last swan song
So when I grow my hair out
I’ll just go kinda long
A length that lets you know, I know
How long it is that hair should grow
For some guy who is just below
his early late mid prime …
and knows that it is time
if ever time there was … because
I think I’ll grow my hair out

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.