Long Hair

Long hair rides the fire fly.  Soft glowing up into the sky.  I see them floating under the trees.  Ghostly pulsing orbs that pass me by.  Long hair rides the winds at night and is a saxicoline sprite.  Small and spit fire.  She is.  Long Hair dreams of the woods at night and moves through tall grasses under moonlight.  Braids fall down to flowing locks.  Long Hair suddenly has will to rise when the wind lifts her up by her braids and ties.  Fly little one and listen to tinkling glasses.  Wine toasts and summer roasts.  Strawberries dipped in summertime.  Long Hair smells of sweet grass and sage.  She smells sweet like lavender.  Out in a sprinkling of stars on a warm summer night, smelling grassy and fresh with a hint of wild forest.  Smells of the dirt earth pathways under her toes and smells of green leaves covering mossy rocks.  My Long Hair is my friend.  She is an idea that flies away into the warm months.  She could never live with clocks and cloth.  She is as wild as the air and the fire and all things that creep along waterways.  Long live my little one.  Long live my Long Hair.