Her Long Black Hair
Her long black hair
cascaded,
like waves.
Like those sweet black waters.
Of waterfalls,
they were,
as they tumbled
down
her back.
Touching,
she knew,
her very bones.
Through the soft silk,
that was her skin,
to the fragility of
her spine.
The one
that held her.
Together.
Kept her upright.
In this violent world of
madness.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Her Long Black Hair, which
was posted on Nov 17, 2011 by
ashika_manu.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"I wrote this because I have long black hair. Seriously."
This poem is filed under:
Abstract, Free Verse, Imagery
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