In the gentle weave of morning light,
Threads of gold and shadow play,
Each strand a story, softly bright,
In the dance of silken sway.

The whisper of the breeze entwines,
With locks that flow like river’s song,
In every curl, a secret shines,
A tapestry where dreams belong.

Through seasons’ change and whispered grace,
The hair remembers every tear,
Each touch, each breath, a tender trace,
Of moments lost and moments dear.

In tangled knots or flowing free,
The journey of a life unfolds,
In every strand, eternity,
A crown of stories, softly told.