Zeus' Hair
I can feel it in the air.
Something happened to his hair.
It was always his pride and joy,
ever since he was just a young boy.
Playing in the meadows,
golden locks a streaming,
and at night, the other boys,
envious dreams a dreaming.
He brushed ten times a morning,
never a hair out of place.
It boasted tidiness;
a halo round his face.
Could it have been Hades, I wonder,
who'd done Zeus' hair asunder?
They'd never been close, those two,
always a fight when the great wind blew.
They'd clash and bang high above the clouds,
anger in their shouts,
And sparks would fly and rain would fall,
after each and every clout.
But that was then and this is now,
on whom do I put the blame?
How can I tell when I know not the damage,
that's surely been wreaked on Zeus' mane.
I rush and run and there I am,
In the throne room, where Zeus is in a jam.
Hera cuts and hair falls down,
Zeus' face is drawn into a frown.
I smile to myself and slip away,
For Zeus is just getting his hair cut today.