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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