Must I tell you about her locs,
That dance with the rhythm of her hips,
Watching their twist, and turn – a testament
To the tangled thoughts in every strand, a reflection
Of the tender care she donates upon her hair.

And would I love to keep a lock, and key
To her locs, being a LONG story in itself—
Free, vibrant, and unapologetically bold
The sunlight catches the rich hues of her hair;
Tales of her heritage, struggles, and her triumphs.

I swear, I promise; I must say...
Her locs are the echoes of the laughter
And tears that have shaped her journey.