Your polished racehorse hair
leaves me churning with envy.
Mine, conversely, seems
To heave into acquiescence
and yet, when I look more closely
into the mirror there is a girl;
with sea matted hair
who runs at the tide edge
and makes rafts out of driftwood.
with yellow oat grass hair
who lingers with the hare
in the wild moor meadow.
with sand gritty desert hair
where the Pleiades shine
and illuminate her dark places.
who is beautiful.
Hello Di, this is a beautiful poem; think you could lose the full-stops in the italicised stanzas, and also I’d be inclined to get rid of “with the hare”- the unexpected rhyme jars a bit. Plus – and I’m sure this is a simple mistake – you don’t need the capital letter at start of line 4. Tiny crits for a fabulous poem, rich and sensual. Congrats!
Lovely. Can’t add anything to Gill’s comments.
Me too. Lovely.