Hair, Our Thread Poem by Sierra Evans

A tiny thread,
thin and short.
A bright red thread;
growing.

A thread,
now thicker,
a thread,
now longer.

A love,
now thicker,
a love,
now stronger.

A thread,
it grows, it flows with the wind.
It takes what comes at it.
It does not break, only bends and flows.
It accepts what ever shall happen-
it does not break,
only bends and flows.

This thread,
our life.
This thread,
our love. -
It does not break,
only bends and flows.

This thread, once small and thin.
It's grown, it's flown.
It's fallen to the lowest of depths, and risen back up to the highest.

This thread shall never break,
this thread shall never cry,
all this thread shall do is get old, and die.