Each day I watch the ocean swell
Sometimes with hope, sometimes despair;
The ocean's faces ever change
Like the fashions of their hair:
Monday:
Like a waterfall of brown
Through golden culverts flowing--
Sweeps me far away downstream,
Without her ever knowing.
Tuesday:
Rippled clouds at sunrise,
Supple, damp and red,
Combed out, twisted in a braid,
Or just left loose instead.
Wednesday:
Of her black hair a single strand
Sweeter than Midnight's darkest land;
When it lightens up again,
Its sunrise on a beach of sand.
Thursday:
Like golden floss on top of corn,
Silky, curly, fine,
Rising from a thick, black band
Above blue eyes that shine.
Friday:
Whipped up like a hot souffle,
Luxurious, soft, held loose
With ribbons, combs and perfume,
Tempting like a mousse.
Saturday:
Her pony tail we follow,
Like the Christmas star;
Maybe we're not wise men,
But then, maybe we are.
Sunday:
Her hair flew up out the vent
Like a flame,
When we hit an unmarked bump
(Not big).
The top slid shut,
And her hair almost caught,
So I reached up
And pulled it in quick.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC
Each day I watch the ocean swell
Sometimes with hope, sometimes despair;
The ocean's faces ever change
Like the fashions of their hair:
Monday:
Like a waterfall of brown
Through golden culverts flowing--
Sweeps me far away downstream,
Without her ever knowing.
Tuesday:
Rippled clouds at sunrise,
Supple, damp and red,
Combed out, twisted in a braid,
Or just left loose instead.
Wednesday:
Of her black hair a single strand
Sweeter than Midnight's darkest land;
When it lightens up again,
Its sunrise on a beach of sand.
Thursday:
Like golden floss on top of corn,
Silky, curly, fine,
Rising from a thick, black band
Above blue eyes that shine.
Friday:
Whipped up like a hot souffle,
Luxurious, soft, held loose
With ribbons, combs and perfume,
Tempting like a mousse.
Saturday:
Her pony tail we follow,
Like the Christmas star;
Maybe we're not wise men,
But then, maybe we are.
Sunday:
Her hair flew up out the vent
Like a flame,
When we hit an unmarked bump
(Not big).
The top slid shut,
And her hair almost caught,
So I reached up
And pulled it in quick.
Seven different people