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