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WhileSippingCoffee

Incarnation

Yarn To Body

Beautiful People,

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I feel his hands, brushing through my hair
And gently, like a pendulum, they sway.
Pulling and pushing and tugging at my locks
Straightening out of what is the pride of a Faroese.
Wild, wild, my fleece is wild,
Gently he picks, his combing is mild.
I’m neat, I’m clean, and I’m free of dust,
I’m raised from the base so that . . .

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July 22, 2015

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