Your Hair

I always loved her hair. Hehe...she was sweet. She was.



I sometimes imagine the oceans
and the waves breaking against the rocks
and the blue stretching as far as my eyes can see

But then I see your hair

And everything changes.

And I dont want the waves wetting my hands.

I want my fingers to mingle in your curls,
I want to play with them, sing with them,
know them.

I want the hazel, the brown, the oak,
all the colours that your hair contains,
and I want them day and night,
when I wake up and fall asleep.

And as I watch the fury of this brave sea,
I cannot but long the day
that I will have your hair again
lying peacefully on my chest.


Miguel M.