My Hand In Your Hair - Poem by Leslie Alexis
A hairdresser I would be if it meant I
Get to run my fingers through your hair
Just a little longer.
For each time I fluff it, I smell orchids, and
Strawberries. It is like a broken bottle of
Love, which massages my nose, and
Excites my spirit.
With a feel like Persian silk: warm, and
Straight off the spin, immersing my hands
In a blissful bubble bath, that
Spreads all over my skin.
Copyright © 2009 Leslie Alexis
Comments about My Hand In Your Hair by Leslie Alexis
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You