Winter's air tip toed Into my room, through The narrow openings Of my Window. Caressed my face; Flipped my brown, Silken, luxuriant hair Which was awaiting to be Tied flat; into braids.
Feels like yesterday when we passed school together With my oily braids and ur unbeard face From tiffen to cafe dates From behind the notebook to beneath blanket Endless smiles to now I want spaces The " the best " to " now unknow" I became beautiful, oh he said that But my essence vanished from his heart
Her fingers Parts away the hair strands, She pulls them over and Over again making a braid In two minutes, My fingers Trying so hard to Part the hair Can't even make a Braid , Trying hard And hard till my Fingers pained, My hair was never Plaited..
She never adored her braids which hung like adorned dates. But only after losing touch and growing stylish wigs, she missed those familiar ringlets hanging carelessly down her back. β % &