She tossed her curly mop.
The frizzy thing of keratin (and some moss).
She needed a haircut, badly.
Yet, she dared not visit a saloon, even till Unlock.20!
She wondered why the folk mourned,
About being in pyjama bottoms, she loved them so.
She destested makeup that highlighted her ‘forever-acne’.
Was content sporting a head visor all day!
Thank goodness she exclaimed
That masks were the need of the hour.
It spared her from donning lipstick,
That never failed to leave her looking dour!