Everyday before I go to sleep
I touch the hair at the back of my head.
It's short and Coarse and strong
All the hair around it is three times longer
But I never touch it before I go to sleep
I never reach out to feel if it's still standing
Because I know it's going to be there any time I do.
Probably longer than I last touched it.
even if this is the case, i feel nothing
No pride, no joy
But for the hair at the back of my head,
Even though everytime I touch it,
And feel it's coarseness like a desert shrub
still hanging in there,
Still surviving
though stunted from being lain on every night
I feel such joy and contentment
I say to my self every night
if this little shrub will survive
So will I.
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🍁📎Writing My Way...📎🍁
Poetryjust a bunch of poems and prose that comes to me every now and then - its on here and my blog