The Significance of My Reply

Image courtesy of 12019 via pixabay

it is such a small thing,
you seem to think.

it began, all those years ago
with our oldest child
pulling it back,
tying it up,
letting it
grow
long,
like our story

little sticky fingers lift and pull and
yank and twist,
wind and tangle and drag and hold.
my neck no longer cold,
i learn to braid.

colors like autumn leaves
catching fire in the sun,
pulling it back
tying it up,
letting it fly loose
and free, and you
pull
and twist,
wind and yank and grasp,
entangled, holding
in the darkness,
heat and skin, this hair
our curtain, our
blanket, the braid
unleashed, our
secret —
one ear always to the
sound of sleeping children —
this love, much laughter
our lives, entwined.