A poem partially about my hair.

I am beautiful this morning.

 I opened these brown eyes at dawn and My smile rose with the sun. 

I let my curls unravel from a neatly made bun.

 One by one they expanded like a young rose in spring.

 I glanced in the mirror and appreciated everything. 

I stretched towards the sky like a tree standing tall. Had a chill, a few goose bumps after all it is fall. I jumped back into my covers and quite frankly...I said, I'm beautiful this morning but I'm not ready to get out of bed.