The Hair Stream

Usually poems are written

About how the blue of one’s eyes,

Are that of the ocean,

Or of a lake.

But you my friend,

Have the ocean waves cascading down your back,

The light glinting off the white caps of your curls.

You, my friend,

Have a waterfall roaring from the ponytail on your head,

The tips of your hair never reaching a calm pool to collect the water.

You, my friend,

Have wielded the beauty of water,

Into the very hair on your head,

And I find it simply amazing.