Braids
Braids
Dangling locks.
Tiny buds
blossom.
An invisible voice
from no-where
whispers, “Let down your hair.”
The velvet~green leaves
rise…
The flowers trumpet.
The roots hold
the soil as the satin
braids give way.
The invisible One
ascends…
Each petal, a step,
draped in pastel hues
reaching the soft
blanket
hung beneath the window.
The silent One
descends—
laying down.
A golden hush
loosens a braid
covering the
wanderer…
‘you’re home.’
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