to the woman at the grocer's

I see her, standing stark among a dozen paled Caught in her hair, the light bows down to dark- and sunlight failed to disperse its gloom, dark as night. Her hair lies thickly curled her shoulders all around and darkness overflows, as it lies unfurled- the wind makes soft sound when, past dark tresses, it blows. That sound if one would but listen would be swept away… to the shores of some distant sea where one sees the wet sand glisten and the native palms sway as now does her hair, blowing free. She is but just a woman- walking fast and happily unaware of her own beauty, but my eyes while it will last- drowns in the depths of her hair as in curls around her shoulders it lies.