When I was young,
my mom braided my hair with purple ribbons
every Sunday morning.
Her fingers trembled, tangled in my curls,
but she kept braiding, twisting, tying
until it was to her standard.
Nights like this, I miss her
as I braid my own hair,
And I can't achieve the perfection
Of those trembling fingers.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
When I was young,
my mom braided my hair with purple ribbons
every Sunday morning.
Her fingers trembled, tangled in my curls,
but she kept braiding, twisting, tying
until it was to her standard.
Nights like this, I miss her
as I braid my own hair,
And I can't achieve the perfection
Of those trembling fingers.
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