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Wednesday, April 16, 2008



The pen rules me
And often the hours fall to verse.

Tonight the subject is your hair.
God Herself must envy it.
You are one gorgeous brunet.
Were you competing with immortal beauties
For title to "women's richest ornament",
It would perforce be yours.

Cliché fails. I require new vocabulary,
Another way to describe your crowning glory.

Really! The words have been used
Countless times before! Tell me,
What hope have I to praise sufficient
The tresses whose luster captivates my gaze?

What phrase convey the special
Weight and texture of keratin length
Presently known to my hand?

Is it enough?
May I sum your majesty and simply say,
I love to curl your hair
Round my fingers when we sleep?

I know it's early on in the affair.
Sorry my demand so ardent.
Darling, don't you ever leave me,

World too cruel a place for me to be bereft,
I could neither face day nor night without you!

Yet understand I have no wish to suffocate.
I picture no two-bit romance,
Needy lovers joined at the hip. I want
Your freedom and seek only to sleep,
Whatever the time Destiny grants,
Your body next to mine,
My fingers wrapped in splendor of you, brunet.

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