A Secret Collection

A poem about a secret collection for the Writer's Cramp

A Secret Collection

A filament strand of the finest brunette
Was left on the arm of my friend among friends,
To leave it would be the saddest regret
Of my secret collection: cheveux de sa tête.

So, plucking it carefully, feigning to tend
To the personal hygiene of this friend among friends,
I pocket it shamefully -- sinful in crime --
And pray that the source will be mine within time.

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