It's the glisten at the light,
That small glimmer of a perfectionist.
The dark waves and the pale surface,
a red sea with murky waters.
It falls to the arches,
it caresses to the skin.
The silk and satin that it rests on,
like a red sea with murky waters.
I drown when i rest,
I fathom the next stroke and with anticipation,
I weave one lock with the other.
Down the arches,
to caress the skin.
That small glimmer of a happiness,
It rests against the pale skin,
it etches across the dark brows.
That Auburn Hair.