To The People Who Live In Your Hair Poem by Kewayne Wadley

To the people who live in your hair,
Wrapped in beautiful black wool,
Confined to roots that blow against the wind.
Do they notice the change of climate as they laugh and play in their huts made of wool.
Threads of life parted in each region of your hair, I couldn't see them going anywhere else.
The people that live in your hair.
Long beautiful strings that flow down the bottom of your neck.
Each strand growing to extend the comfort of each home tightly nestled through each bristle, each finger that combs its way through.
A land once foreign before each strand began to grow.
Anxious hearts that beat looking into the horizon that hangs above your head.
A view of the world that sways in bitter unrest while there,
A moisture of happiness toils through the land of people whom live in your hair.
Safe in each others arms, tucked away in each beautiful strand.
Filled with thoughts that loom in birth.
To the people who live in your hair.
May they continue to kiss your hand with every sound the wind whispers