November 1, 2011

Contrast

Cornhusk gold tangles fly in the wind
Caught by the breeze, yet trapped to skin
Tiny blond locks whorl in the mist
Golden from sunshine, caught in the current

When I look down, mine looks so different
Earth colored frizz lay in my hand
The tassles untwisted in its mass
So darkened now, like winter's abyss.

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