Hair cascading
like a rain-made, curbside waterfall.
Rivulets of brown, streaked gold,
flowing over shoulders,
masking the rock face
where hidden treasures lie in sleep.
The earth moves, the water changes course,
and a sigh escapes the lips of the maiden mountain.
What dreams to lie beneath the stillness of her face
and serve as pillow to this living landscape?
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That's beautiful, Emily. As per your request: When I read this, I see a girl, about late college age. She's at the point of maturity where she's starting to work seriously toward her goals and showing some of the incredible potential she has. Perhaps she's seen some disappointment in the loss of something she initially hoped for. But both she and the world have yet to see the incredible woman she will be.
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